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LONDON  BY  DAY  AND  NIGHT; 


OR, 


MEN    AND    THINGS 


IN 


€^t  ($tt\ii  3HetrnpnIi0 


BY 

DAVID    W.    BART  LETT. 


NEW  YORK: 
HURST   &    CO.,  Publishers, 

122    NASSAU    STREET, 


PREFACE. 

It  is  customary,  we  believe,  to  write  a  preface,  if  one  ven- 
Eiires  to  do  that  somewhat  dangerous,  though  not  uncommon 
thing — make  a  book.  Taking  advantage  of  this  custom,  we 
will  not  let  our  firstling  go  forth  without  a  single  explanation 
to  live  or  die,  according  to  its  intrinsic  merits.  Our  words 
shall  be  few,  however — simply  in  explanation  of  the  circum- 
stances under  which  we  saw  the  emporium  of  England. 

In  the  autumn  of  1847,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  we  sailed 
from  Boston  for  Liverpool,  and  resided  in  the  English  capital 
for  a  year :  again  in  the  July  of  1850  we  set  sail  from  New 
York  for  Liverpool,  and  spent  another  twelvemonth  in  London. 
This  volume  is  the  result  of  our  observations  during  that  time. 

We  simply  write  of  what  we  saw,  and  therefore  the  work  is 
not  a  hand-book  to  London ;  we  have  described  some  things 
at  length,  others  with  brevity,  but  make  no  pretensions  of  de- 
scribing all  even  of  the  prominent  men  and  things  in  the  Eng- 
lish metropolis.  But  as  a  faithful  description  of  such  men  and 
things  as  came  under  our  observation — as  a  true  account  of 
our  own  impressions  of  London,  its  places,  people,  their  man- 
ners and  customs,  we  hope  for  it  the  good  opinion  of  those  who 
raay  honor  it  with  attention. 


VI  PREFACE. 

During  our  first  year  in  London  we  were  so  busily  occupied 
as  scarcely  to  be  able  to  have  a  fair  view  of  its  renowned  places 
and  men,  but  during  our  last  year  there,  seeing  and  describing 
was  our  principal  employinent.  Our  companion  during  that 
ear  was  our  cousin  and  friend,  Rufus  C.  Reynolds,  Esq., 
and  we  cannot  refrain  from  mentioning  here  the  enthusiasm 
with  which  we  together  threaded  the  myriad  avenues  of  the 
great  town,  seeking  out  not  only  the  abodes  of  wealth  and 
splendor,  but  the  haunts  of  the  poor  and  down-trodden. 

There  are  probably  inaccuracies  in  the  style  of  our  pages, 
and  possibly  in  statement,  though,  we  trust,  to  a  very  limited 
extent.  Our  object  has  been  to  give  a  vi\nd  j^icture  of  the 
English  Metropolis,  shifting  quickly  and  easily  from  one  sub- 
ject to  another,  and  treating  no  single  subject  at  any  great 
length.  We  have,  in  carrying  out  our  plan,  made  use  of  mat 
ter  which  has,  in  a  more  condensed  and  inaccurate  form,  been 
furnished  by  us  while  abroad,  to  several  American  journals ; 
but  it  has  been  revised  and  rewritten,  and  much  new  matter 
added  thereto.  If  the  reader  is  amused  and  instructed,  our 
purpose  will  be  accomplished. 

D.   W.  BARTLETT 

Thk  Pines,  Avon,  Conn.,  February,  1852. 


CONTENTS, 


►-•-♦- 


CHAPTER  I. 

FIRST     IMPRESSIONS.  rxajt 

The  Shore 11 

Liverpool  to  Loudon 13 

The  Streets 20 

St.  Clement's  Inn 26 

Smithfield 28 


CHAPTER   n. 

THE     PARKS. 

Hyde   Park 82 

Victoria  Park 39 


CHAPTER  HL 


PLACES     AND     SIGHTS. 


Christ  Church  Hospital 42 

Fires 47 

Madame  Tassaud's 51 

Gutta  Percha  Factory 56 

Saint  Katharine  Docks 59 


CHAPTER   IV. 


PICTURES     OF    MEN. 


George  Cruikshank 63 

Alfred  Tennyson 61 


Vlil  CONTENTS. 

PAGR 

Charles  Dickens 71 

R.  M.  Milnes 74 

Douglas  Jerrold 76 


CHAPTER  V. 

CUSTOMS     AND     COSTUMES. 

Customs 78 

Olasses 83 

Costume 87 

p]nglish  Women 90 

Burials  in  London 94 

The  Country 99 

English  Homes 1 04 

Christmas , 106 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ENOLISH     POVERTY. 

Spitalfields ; .  HI 

Duck  Lane 1 20 

The  Poor  Tinker 1 24 

St.  Giles 126 


CHAPTER  VH. 

PERSONS     OF     NOTE. 

Sir  Charles  N"apier . . , . . . .  1 8C 

Duke  of  Wellington ]  33 

jVlacaulay " 138 

Browning. 140 

Bulwer , 141 

WiUiam  and  Mary  Howitt 144 

Thomas  Carlyle 151 

Ebenezer  Elliott 155 


CHAPTER   Vni. 

REMARKABLE     PLACES. 

Billingsgate  Market , 160 

Thames  Tunnel 163 

The  Old  Bailey 169 

Somerset  House 176 

The  Fire  Monument 179 

A  Jewish  Synagogue 184 


CONTENTS.  IX 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE     ARISTOCRACY.  page 

The  Fobles 190 

Earl  of  Carlisle 196 

Lord  Brougham 201 

CHAPTER  X. 

JOURNALISM. 

The  Times 203 

Daily  Press 207 

Weekly  Press 210 

CHAPTER   XL 

THE  QUEEN  AND  PRINCE  ALBERT 213. 


CHAPTER   XH. 

PARLIAMENT. 

House  of  Lords 218 

House  of  Commons 223 

CHAPTER  Xni. 

A    TRIP    TO    HAMPTON    COURT 228 

CHAPTER   XIV. 

REMINISCENCES    OP    THE    PAST. 

Bunyan's   Grave 237 

Stoke  Newington 2-14 

Kampstead  and  Highgate 245 

Chatterton 249 

Nelson's  Tomb • .  253 

CHAPTER   XS^. 

STRANGERS     IN     LONDON. 

Americans. 257 

Grisi  and  Alboni 26C 

Freiligrath , 263 

A* 


X  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XVI. 

POPULAR     ORATORS.  pj^Q, 

Edward  Miall 268 

Henry  Vincent 269 


CHAPTER   XVH. 

PULPIT     ORATORS. 

Dr.McNeile \ 275 

Fox 277 

Thomas  Binney 280 


CHAPTER   XVin. 

WESTMINSTER     ABBEY 283 

CHAPTER   XIX. 

MENANDTHINGS. 

Spencer  T.  Hall 293 

Mr.  Muntz ■ 298 

Sir  Peter  Laurie 801 

Temperance 303 

The  People 306 

English   Habits 311 

Oppression , 315 

CHAPTER   XX. 

THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE. 

The  Opening 318 

The  Exhibition 320 

The  Close 323 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

FAREWELL 326 


WHAT  I  SAW  IN  LONDON. 


CHAPTEB  I 

FIRST    IMPRESSIONS. 

THE    SHORE. 

It  was  a  morning  in  autumn,  fair  and  lovely ^  wKen  We  first 
gazed  upon  the  shores  of  Ireland  while  on  our  way  from  Bos- 
ton to  Liverpool.  We  had  been  careeriiior  over  rough  and 
disagreeable  seas  for  many  days  and  nights,  and  to  wake  and 
suddenly  discover  the  beautiful  fields  of  Ireland  close  under 
our  quarter,  seemed  magical.  The  morning  sun  was  upon  it 
making  it  radiant  with  beauty,  the  hues  of  the  landscape  were 
emerald,  and  the  sky  was  a  mellow-gfay— and  it  was  not 
strange  that  our  hearts  throbbed  with  enthusiastic  excitement. 

The  sight  of  land  is  always  dear  to  the  sailor,  and  espe- 
cially to  those  unused  to  the  mountain  wave ;  but  now  we 
Were  approaching  those  countries  of  old  renown  which  we 
had  longed  to  see  for  many  a  year,  and  our  enthusiasm  was 
the  keener  from  this  feeling  of  exquisite  romance^  which  can- 
not be  described. 

The  sailors  were  joyous  with  their  uncouth  but  hearty  land- 
songs  and  were  getting  the  anchor^chains  out — the  passengers 
were  indastriously  packing  their  baggage  for  the  unpleasant 
ordeal  at  the  Custom  House,  and  a  few  looked  almost  sadly 
upon  the  staunch  vessel  which  had  borne   us  so  safely  ovm 


12  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON, 

the  dangers  of  the  ocean,  and  to  which  we  were  now  about 
to  bid  farewell. 

The  wind  bore  lis  quickly  along  our  course,  and  soon  we 
had  crossed  the  channel  oyer  to  the  Welsh  coast  and  had  the 
pleasure  of  gazing  at  the  grand  Welsh  mountains  and  the 
picturesque  hamlets  and  windmills.  The  number  of  sail  in- 
creased as  we  neared  the  mouth  of  the  Mersey,  and  at  last 
when  a  little,  snorting  steam4ug — looking  puny  though  in 
reality  our  master — favor-ed  us  with  its  assistance,  we  were 
surrounded  by  vessels  of  all  shapes  and  sizes  and  from  the  four 
quarter.?  of  the  world. 

Our  veteran  captain  now  came  upon  the  quarter-deck  in  land- 
clothes— the  striped  shirt-collar  and  pilot  overcoat  were  relin- 
quished for  another  voyage.  The  passengers  too  were  dressed 
for  shore,  and  had  smiling  faces,  and  some  were  so  utterly  de- 
void of  romance  as  to  talk  audibly  of  English  roast-beef,  and 
plum-puddings!  The  pilot  gave  us  a  half  dozen  old  news- 
papers to  read,  while  he  gladly  accepted  an  American  cigar, 
which  he  smoked  with  the  exquisite  satisfaction  of  knowing  it. 
bad  never  paid  duty  at  a  Custom  House, 

And  finally  Liverpool  looms  up  in  the  distance,  with  ht^ 
steeples,  her  great  forest  of  ships  and  steamers,  and  her  g'- 
gantic  docks.  We  are  no  longer  at  the  sport  of  the  winds, 
but  are  fairly  abreast  the  town,  and  our  anchor  goes  hissing 
down  to  seize  upon  reality  once  more.  There  is  a  noise  of. 
cheering  among  the  crew,  and  we  transfer  ourselves  and  bag- 
gage to  the  little  Tug  and  steer  for  the  Custom  House,  Here 
we  are  detained  for  an  hour,  perhaps  longer,  and  undergo  an 
tuipieasant  examination,  but  at  last  it  is  all  over  and  we  stand 
free  in  the  streets  of  Liverpool— we  are  in  the  Old  World  ! 

But  we  cannot  afford  to  pass  by  the  Custom. House  so  easily. 
The  officers  of  the  English  Custom  Houses  are  by  no  means 
the  same  kind  of  men  as  those  who  officiate  in  our  own  Cus- 
tom Houses.     Ours  are  invariably  gentlemen,  and  treat  stran- 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  13 

gers  with  politeness.  Such  is  not  always  the  case  in  England 
The  officer  into  whose  hands  we  fell  at  Liverpool  was  ex- 
ceedingly morose,  though  we  handed  him  the  key  of  oui 
trunk  to  gaze  at  what  he  pleased.  And  he  overturned  the 
whole  contents,  and  opened  a  little  daguerreotype-portrait  and 
weighed  it,  charging  so  much  the  ounce  upon  it  I  It  seemed 
to  us  excessively  mean  for  great  England  to  charge  us  a  few 
pennies  on  our  mother's  picture  I  We  think  the  official  ex- 
ceeded his  duty,  probably  because  he  was  in  a  bad  humor. 
We  have  never  since  been  so  ill-treated  by  an  English  official, 
and  think  that  this  one  in  his  surliness  was  not  a  fair  speci- 
men of  the  class. 


LIVERPOOL  TO  LONDON. 

That  which  strikes  the  American  most  forcibly,  as  he  en- 
ters London,  is  the  apparent  age  and  magnificent  solidity  of 
everything  about  him.  He  has  been  accustomed  to  look  upon 
everything,  save  the  region  of  the  skies,  as  transitory  and 
ephemeral.  In  a  land  where  great  towns  grow  up  in  a  few 
years,  change  is  the  law  and  passion  of  the  people  The  cities, 
even  in  the  Atlantic  States,  are  constantly  undergoing  such 
transitions  that  were  a  citizen  of  one  of  them  to  absent  him- 
self ten  years  he  could  scarcely  know  the  place  upon  his  return 
as  the  one  he  had  left.  Whole  miles  of  streets,  perhaps,  have 
been  added,  great  buildings  erected,  and  large  sections  torn 
down,  or  burnt  and  rebuilt  during  his  absence. 

Many  of  our  railroads  have,  to  an  English  eye,  an  unfinished 
appearance,  and  some  of  them  are  temporary  performances 
Railway  bridges  are  often  constructed  of  wood,  spiles  being 
driven  into  the  earth,  instead  of  using  the  solid  stones  which 
can  never  decay.  Some  of  them  cross  tracts  of  territory 
where  the  shrieks  of  the  stearn-horse  startle  the  will  deer  in 
their  lonely  haunts. 


14  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

When  the  American  lands  in  Liverpool,  the  first  sig^ht 
which  bursts  upon  him  is  of  the  tluays  and  Docks,  and  theii 
solid  masonry  strikes  him  M'ith  wonder.  They  seem  to  have 
existed  for  ages,  and  promise  to  exist  without  repair  for  all 
ages  to  come.  The  long  rows  of  warehouses,  and  stores,  look 
grim  and  dark  as  if  they  had  seen  a  year  of  Avinters.  The 
bricks  of  which  they  are  made  are  twice  the  size  of  American 
bricks,  and  are  dark  as  iron  in  their  color. 

When  the  railway  is  taken  for  London  the  trans-Atlantic 
stranger  is  surprised  to  see  how  thoroughly,  how  strongly,  and 
on  what  a  magnificent  scale  the  road  is  constructed.  From 
London  to  Liverpool  there  are  two  carefully  laid  tracks,  and 
a  portion  of  the  distance  three  and  four.  It  would  be  con- 
sidered madness  to  run  trains  upon  a  line  vv'ith  but  one  track, 
and  the  law  would  not  allow  it.  He  notices  how  splendidly 
all  the  bridges  are  made,  as  if  to  last  forever;  how  hills  are 
tunnelled  through,  and  yawning  chasms  wired  over  with  sus- 
pension bridges  ;  hov^^  careful  the  ofiicers  of  the  road  are  of 
the  life  in  their  keeping  ;  not  allowing  any  one  to  cross  the 
track,  or  stand  upon  the  platform  of  the  car,  or  put  his  head 
out  of  the  window  while  under  way  ;  and  yet  with  all  this 
care,  when  he  gets  to  London  and  looks  at  his  watch  he  finds 
that  he  has  made  his  journey  of  210  miles  quicker  than  he 
ever  made  a  similar  journey  before,  in  his  life.  If  he  carac  in 
a  first-class  car  he  was,  however,  better  satisfied  with  its  com- 
fort and  ease  than  its  price,  for  upon  the  whole,  Am-^rican 
railway  travelling  is  cheaper  by  one  third  than  the  English. 
For  his  ride  he  paid  nearly  twelve  dollars,  which  is  one  half 
more  than  he  would  have  paid  for  the  same  distance  en  an 
American  line.  It  is  on  the  rail  that  the  American  [generally 
gets  his  first  taste  of  English  prices  and  manners.  Of  all  men, 
save  us  from  travelling  Englishmen.  They  are  no  more  like 
themselves  at  home  and  surrounded  by  their  household  gods, 
than  is  a  sleeping  tiger  like  a  tiger  awake  and  voracious.     In 


FIRST    IMPRRSSIONS.  15 

coming  from  Liverpool  to  London  we  were  shut  up  in  a  car 
with  an  Englishman  whose  profession  was,  judging  hy  ap- 
Dearances,  commercial.  He  eyed  us  from  head  to  foot  aa 
carefully  as  if  we  had  been  an  orang-outang  instead  of  a 
humble  member  of  the  human  fraternity.  But  he  never  ven- 
tured to  utter  a  loud  word.     At  last  we  ventured  to  say  : 

"  It  is  a  pleasant  day.  sir  I" 

He  replied  by  a  mere   monosyllable,  and   evidently  woul 
not  talk — so  we   rode  for  miles  until  a  vision  of  beauty — a 
lovely  valley  with  a  stream  meandering  through  it,  and  with 
soft   hills  in   the   distance — burst  upon  us,  and  we  could  not 
hold  our  tongue,  and  exclaimed,  "How  beautiful!" 

It  seemed  as  if  a  ghost  of  a  smile  flitted  over  his  face  aa 
we  said  this,  as  if  he  was  not  entirely  insensible  to  praise  of 
his  native  land  from  the  lips  of  a  foreigner,  but  he  uttered 
not  a  word  till  we  arrived  at  the  Euston  Square  Station, 
when  one  of  the  railway  porters  ran  off  with  his  trunk  by 
mistake,  and  he  bellowed  forth  his  wrath  lustily,  while  we 
exclaimed  in  our  heart,  "  Capital ! — the  man  can  talk  !" 

This  is  a  feature  in  the  English  which  is  often  noticed  and 
commented  on  harshly  by  strangers  who  only  reside  in  Eng- 
land for  a  short  time,  and  to  a  certain  extent  it  is  richly  deserved ; 
but  we  have  learned  from  experience  that  often  these  very 
men  v.'ho  are  so  morose  as  travellers,  are  really  noble,  and 
kind,  and  faithful,  and  perhaps  generous  to  a  fault.  It  is 
one  of  the  peculiarities  of  a  London  man  of  business,  that  he 
is  shy  of  strangers  v;hile  travelling,  but  if  in  any  manner  you 
find  your  way  to  his  heart  and  home,  you  are  surprised  to 
discover  a  region  of  beauty  and  kindness  you  had  not  dreamt 
of,  and  if  you  are  in  need,  or  sorrow,  the  sanctities  of  home 
are  freely  offered  to  you,  and  even  pressed  upon  you  ;  his 
purse  is  yours  to  any  extent,  and  your  name  will  never  be- 
come quite  obliterated  nom  his  heart. — At  first  sight  the 
Frenchman  gives  you  a  more  cordial  greeting,  but  he  is  not 


16  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

constant  and  grandly  unchanging.  While  all  is  fair,  he  is 
impulsively  warm  and  courteous,  but  he  soon  wearies  of  any 
great  exertions  in  your  favor,  if  they  include  anything  more 
costly  than  politeness.  Still  a  valuable  lesson  may  be  learned 
from  the  politeness  of  the  French — you  may  give  gladsome- 
ness  to  the  stranger's  heart  often  by  words  and  looks,  which 
cost  nothing.  The  Englishman  shows  his  rough  qualities 
first — his  gentle  ones  afterwards.  Emerson  says,  that  in  ad- 
versity the  Englishman  is  grand.  He  is  right,  and  also  to 
persons  in  adversity,  throughout  liis  conduct  to  such,  if  they 
are  his  friends,  he  is  grand i  It  is  unwise  to  judge  a  people 
superficially,  as  the  majority  of  English  travellers  have  judged 
America  ;  and  the  American  in  London  is  very  liable  to. 
make  up  his  mind  that  the  race  of  Englishmen  is  the  least 
affectionate  of  any  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  but  such  is  not 
the  fact.  At  first  sight  they  appear  to  be  so,  but  a  second 
sober  view  reveals  a  different  story. 

If  the  stranger  leaves  the  Euston  Square  railway  station  for  a 
fashionable  hotel,  he  will  order  the  cabman  to  drive  hiin 
to  somewhere  west  of  Charing  Gross,  or  to  Morley's  Tavern, 
at  Charing  Cross.  If  he  is  a  business  man,  he  will  drive  to 
somewhere  within  the  limits  of  the  city-proper,  in  the  region 
of  the  Royal  Exchange,  perhaps  to  the  North  and  South 
American  Hotel  facing  it.  These  two  points  of  attraction — 
Charing  Cross  and  the  Royal  Exchange  —  are  nearly  three 
miles  apart,  and  the  genuine  Pelham  never  is  to  be  seen  east 
of  the  Cross.  Sheridan  once  caught  the  celebrated  Beau 
Brummel  on  the  unfashionable  side  of  the  Cross  ;  the  elegant 
and  fastidious  Beau  v/as  severely  mortified,  or  affjctcd  to  be 
go,  and  attempted  several  excuses,  when  Sheridan  adminis- 
tered to  him  a  pungent  rebuke  under  the  color  of  a  witticism 

If  the  stranger  in  London  is  a  man  of  wealth  and  fashion, 
and  proceeds  to  a  West  End  ILtel,  he  very  soon  learns  that 
paying  for  fashion  is  vastly  dearer  in  London  than  pajing  foi 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  17 

it  in  New  York.  It  is  quite  a  different  thing,  living  in  the 
metropolis  of  England  like  a  gentleman  of  wealth  and  hlood, 
from  living  in  an  American  town  as  such.  Instead  of  your 
Astor  House  or  Irving  House  prices  of  from  two  to  five  dollars 
a  day,  the  same  attention  and  almost  extravagant  profusion 
of  delicacies  will  cost  from  ten  to  twenty  dollars  per  day 
Everything  is  charged  for  separately.  Every  dish  and  every 
attention,  we  might  almost  say,  must  be  paid  for  in  British 
gold.  And  when  your  bill  is  settled,  you  must  make  a  large 
allowance  for  the  fees  to  the  waiters,  chambermaid,  "  boots," 
and  so  forth.  You  will  perhaps  wish  a  carriage  or  cabriolet 
of  your  own,  and  will  be  obliged  to  pay  twice  or  tl'T'?*';  times 
the  amount  for  any  kind  of  an  establishment  by  the  month  oi 
six  months,  that  you  would  pay  in  Boston  or  New  York. 
You  can  get  nothing,  look  at  nothing,  without  paying  dearl} 
for  it. 

The  appearance  of  the  streets  at  the  West  End  will  be 
much  more  pleasant  to  you  than  of  those  of  any  other  quarter 
of  London.  There  is  an  air  of  cleanliness  about  them  one 
sees  nowhere  else  in  town,  but  even  they  look  older  and  much 
more  substantial  than  the  streets  of  American  towns. 

You  wander  forth  from  your  Hotel,  and  stand  upon  thefin€ 
Square  which  contains  the  Ueservoir  and  Nelson's  Monument. 
You  are  7tot  pleased  with  either,  for  they  have  serious  faults 
The  fountain  is  not  equal  to  its  position — you  are  reminded 
of  the  jet  from  a  hand-syringe — it  is  so  thread-like  and  insig- 
nificant. The  building  which  contains  the  National  Gallery 
of  Paintings  stands  on  the  northern  side  of  the  Square,  but 
you  are  not  exactly  pleased  with  it,  and  so  turn  your  back  to 
t,  and  wander  down  southward  toward  the  river  Thames. 
A  sight  of  Westminster  Abbey  suddenly  bursts  upon  you,  and 
the?i  you  are  struck  dumb  with  awe  at  the  age  and  glorious 
beauty  of  the  scene,  and  when  you  remember  how  many  ceu" 
tunes  the  brave  old  building  hag  withstood  the  beatings  of 

2 


18  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

the  winter  storms — how  many  summers'  suns  have  gilded  ita 
towers,  so  that  glooms  and  smiles  have  alike  become  daguer- 
reotyped  upon  its  countenance,  you  feel  your  heart  tremble 
with  a  solemn,  yet  half-pathetic  delight ! 

Another  and  a  more  gorgeous  spectacle  presents  itself  to 
your  wondering  eyes — the  nev/  Houses  of  Parliament  not  yet 
completed,  but  near  enough  so  to  win  your  unbounded  admi- 
ration. Such  architectural  beauty  (unless  you  have  previously 
traversed  the  continent) 'your  eyes  are  unaccustomed  to,  and 
you  prize  it  moie  than  thost;  who  have  been  born   among  it. 

You  are  surprised  with  the  number,  the  splendor  and  mag 
ni licence  of  the  carriages  of  the  aristocracy.  It  seems  liter- 
ally as  if  there  was  no  end  to  brilliant  equipages  and  turn- 
outs, and  you  conclude  that  the  wealth  of  London  is  almost 
boundless.  All  day  long  at  Charing  Cross  you  may  see  pri- 
vate carriages  of  great  beauty  and  costliness  speeding  awaj 
like  the  wind,  hither  and  thither,  up  from  Downing-street 
away  towards  Piccadilly  and  Hyde  Park — in  every  direction 

The  great  Parks  are  open  to  view,  and  their  rural  scenery 
contrasts  strangely  with  the  brick  houses  and  forests  of  chim- 
neys. You  enter  them,  and  tread  upon  soft,  green  grass  ; 
birds  sing  melodiously  over  your  head  in  the  branches  of  the 
lofty  trees  ;  children  gambol  in  the  sunshine  before  you,  and 
you  conclude  that  Englishmen  have  a  care  for  health  as  well 
as  wealth.  Some  unlucky  day  you  chance  to  lose  your  way, 
and  wander  a  little  back  of  Westminster  Abbey  into  old  Pye 
street,  or  Duck  Lane.  Great  heavens  I— what  can  this  mean  ? 
You  see  wretchedness  the  most  bitter,  destitution  the  most 
utter,  and  vice  the  most  terrible,  that  ever  you  saw.  It  was 
but  a  step  from  your  forraer  paradise  to  this  unsightly  hell — 
and  all,  too  within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  glorious  old  Abbey  I 
You  never  wdll  forget  the  shock  you  received  that  day,  and 
when  you  are  in  your  room,  and  have  pondered  over  it.  you 
are  satisfied  that  everything  in  this  world  has  its  dark,  as 


FIRSr    IMPRESSIONS.  19 

well  as  bright  side — and  that  truly  London  has  one  side  which 
is  too  painfully  dark  and  horrible  to  gaze  at  with  complacent 
nerves. 

Perhaps  you  are  not  a  man  of  fashion,  but  a  man  of  busi- 
ness, and  drive  from  the  railway  straight  to  the  Exchange, 
down  in  the  city.  Almost  your  first  walk  is  to  see  venerable 
St.  Paul's,  the  most  remarkable  piece  of  architecture  in  Lon- 
don, if  not  in  the  world  ;  and  when  you  gaze  upon  it,  it  is 
with  a  feeling  of  reverence  for  so  much  solemn  beauty.  It 
was  never  our  lot  to  gaze  upon  a  building  of  such  majesty  as 
St.  Paul's.  Those  who  are  competent  to  judge  assert  that  it 
is  only  equalled  by  one  building  in  the  world,  and  that  is  St. 
Peter's,  at  Rome  ;  and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  some  eminent 
critics,  does  not  surpass  it. 

London  has  few  public  buildings  to  be  proud  of ;  it  is  upon 
the  whole  a  smoky,  gloomy  town,  but  three  buildings  it  may 
justly  glory  in — the  new  Houses  of  Parliament,  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  Saint  Paul's.  The  majestic  grandeur  of  the  lat- 
ter settles  down  upon  London  with  a  grace  which  adds  great 
dignity  to  the  metropolis  of  the  British  Empire. 

After  seeing  St.  Paul's,  you  hurry  at  once  to  see  Thames 
Tunnel — that  wonder  of  the  world,  and  you  acknowledge,  as 
you  gaze  upon  it,  that  it  is  a  living  proof  of  the  industry  and 
genius  of  the  English  nation.  But,  if  your  hotel  be  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Exchange,  you  very  soon  venture  east — east, 
mto  that  wild  wilderness  of  misery  and  suffering  called  Spit- 
aliields.  You  traverse  street  after  street,  and  see  nothing  but 
the  most  disgusting,  the  most  beseeching  poverty.  There  are 
thousands  of  men  and  women  there  who  never  have  known 
what  plenty  is,  what  pure  joy  is,  but  are  herded  together, 
thieves,  prostitutes,  robbers  and  working-men,  in  frightful 
masses.  You  meet  beggars  at  every  step  ;  at  night  the 
streets  are  crowded  with  wretched  women,  called  in  mockery 
"  women  of  pleasure,"  and  you  are  horror-struck  when  you 


20  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

learn  from  reliable  sources,  that  many  of  these  are  but  chil 
dren  in  age— but  fourteen  years  old,  some  of  them,  and  the 
fear  of  starvation  is  what  has  driven  them  to  vice.  Upon 
their  faces  there  is  a  look  of  wan  despair  which  tells  the  story 
of  their  infamy. 

Your  impressions,  first  and  last,  are,  that  in  London  there 
is  good  and  ill ;  enormous  wealth  and  terrible  poverty  ;  great 
'/irtue  and  frightful  vice  ;  beautiful  churches  and  thousands 
who  can  never  enter  them  for  want  of  decent  raiment ; — in 
fact  that  London  is  the  wealthiest  and  most  wretched  city  in 
the  world — the  city  of  extremes  I 

THE  STREETS,  (fee. 

After  spending  a  few  days  at  a  hotel,  we  learned  from  an 
English  friend  the  fact,  that  superior  comfort  and  independence 
could  be  secured  for  less  money  by  taking  apartments  in  a 
private  house.  This  we  did,  renting  a  sleeping  apartment,  a 
drawing-room,  use  of  plate,  and  service  for  a  reasonable  sum. 
This  is  in  fact  the  universal  mode  of  living  among  English 
bachelors,  and  is  more  economical,  if  one  chooses  to  make  it  so, 
than  a  life  at  a  hotel.  You  dine  as  richly  as,  and  when  you 
please ;  go  and  come  when  you  please  ;  invite  as  many 
friends  to  take  supper  with  you  as  suits  your  fancy,  and  be- 
sides paying  a  certain  sum  for  the  use  of  apartments,  plate 
and  servants,  only  pay  the  market  price  for  provisions  con- 
sumed. We  soon  liked  the  ease  and  freedom  of^life  in  lodg- 
i  igs  in  preference  to  the  more  noisy,  bustling  life  of  a  hotel. 
By  degrees  the  streets  became  familiar  to  us,  that  is,  the 
leading  thoroughfares  in  the  more  central  portions  of  the  town 
— as  a  matter  of  course  the  greater  portion  of  London  for 
months  was  an  unexplored  wilderness  to  us. 

Regent-street  is  one  of  the  most  spacious  and  elegant 
streets  in  the  world,  and  we  doubt  if  it  has  an  equal.     There 


■  FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  21 

is  a  grandeur  in  its  width,  in  the  lofty  beauty  of  its  buildings, 
which  are  simple  though  rich,  which  we  have  scarcel}  if 
ever  seen  otherwheres.  The  western  part  of  Piccadilly  is  a 
splendid  street,  and  is  very  fashionable,  as  the  Diike  of  Wel- 
inglon  lives  in  it  and  other  distinguished  noblemen 

But  the  busiest,  noisiest,  and  most  crowded  street  in  the 
English  metropolis  is  that  called  the  "  Strand."  It  runs 
rom  Charing  Cross  eastward  to  Temple  Bar — the  same  street 
under  the  name  of  "Fleet,"  extends  east  of  Temple  Bar  to 
St.  Paul's  Cathedral.  Dr.  Johnson  in  his  day  considered 
Charing  Cross  to  be  the  most  lively  spot  in  London,  and  it  is 
in  our  opinion  the  case  now,  for  from  it  one  sees  the  traffic  of 
the  "  city"  combined  with  the  aristocratic  equipage  of  the 
West  End.  Temple  Bar  is  the  western  boundary  of  the 
ancient  city  of  London,  and  therefore  the  Strand  belongs  to 
Westminster.  The  Bar  or  Gateway  is  a  quaint-looking 
structure',  dingy  with  smoke,  and  always  has  its  apparently 
useless  gates  secured  apart.  We  must  except  state  occasions, 
for  then  her  majesty  Q,ueen  Victoria  cannot  pass  through  that 
gateway  without  asking  permission  of  the  city  authorities. 
Her  power  as  Clueen  of  territories  so  vast  that  the  sun  never 
sets  upon  them  avails  her  nothing  then — she  must  sue  for 
admittance  like  a  very  beg'gar  I  It  is  a  curious  sight  when 
she  enters  the  city-proper  upon  state  occasions.  The  dingy  old 
gates  of  Temple  Bar  are  then  folded  together  and  locked  as  if 
a  foreign  invader  were  to  be  kept  out.  The  royal  procession 
goes  slowly  on  until  the  Bar  is  reached,  and  it  stops  humbly 
and  asks  if  it  may  enter.  One  of  the  Q,ueen's  officers,  ap- 
parelled, as  a  matter  of  course,  in  gorgeous  gewgaws,  descends 
from  a  carriage  and  knocks  upon  the  gate.  The  Lord  Mayor 
of  London  asks  with  as  much  pompous  dignity  as  if  he  really 
didn't  know  : 

"  Who  is  there  ?" 

The  reply  comes  with  equal  pomposity-— 


22  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

"The  aueen!" 

Then  the  gates  are  opened,  and  amid  protestations  or"  loyalty 
and  love  the  monarch  enters  the  city  of  London  I  The  cus- 
tom seems  to  outsiders  a  foolish  and  laughable  one,  but  not  so 
to  the  Londoner.  To  him  it  is  a  legal,  constitutional  right 
which  he  never  would  think  of  relinquishing  to  the  most 
popular  sovereign  in  the  world — thanks  to  his  genuine  English 
love  of  liberty  and  independence.  It  is  one  of  the  privi- 
leges of  the  city  of  London — that  even  the  King  cannot  enter 
it  without  leave  I  It  matters  little  now,  but  the  times  once 
were  when  the  privilege  were  worth  possessing,  when  rapacious 
men  sat  upon  the  throne — and  such  times  may  be  again.  It 
seems  a  waste  of  words  where  so  gentle  a  creature  as  Victoria 
Guelph  is  concerned,  a  nonsensical  form,  but  no  one  can  tell 
the  temper  of  England's  rulers  in  the  future  I  The  Londoner, 
notwithstanding  his  profuse  exhibitions  of  loyalty,  is  neverthe- 
less proud  of  this  privilege,  and  it  gratifies  him  not  a  little  to 
know  that  even  the  monarch  cannot  enter  his  gates  without 
liberty  I 

In  coming  from  the  Strand  through  Fleet-street  to  the 
Exchange  one  gets  a  fine  view  of  Saint  Paul's,  and  the  con- 
trast on  week-days  between  its  holy  grandeur  and  the  din  and 
strife  of  the  Fleet  and  Strand  is  singular  and  striking.  Fleet- 
street  is  somewhat  famous  for  the  hasty  and  irreverent  mar- 
riages once  perpetrated  in  it.  Husbands  and  wives  were 
bought  and  sold  with  astonishing  facility  and  dispatch  on  the 
spot ;  shameless  wretches  for  paltry  fees  married  whoever 
presented  themselves,  and  sometimes,  indeed  often,  the  cere- 
nony  was  performed  in  the  street.  It  was  unsafe  for  a 
pretty  woman  to  venture  near  it,  and  rich  heiresses  were 
sometimes  forcibly  abducted  and  married  in  the  Fleet  against 
their  will  ;  worse  yet,  even  women  who  for  some  object 
wished  to  establish  the  legal  fact  that  they  were  married,  and 
«tiil  did  not  wish  the  trouble  of  a  husband,  came  to  the  Flee*, 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  2S 

and  bribed  some  low  fellow  to  go  through  the  ceremony  of 
marriage,  with  the  understanding  that  as  soon  as  it  was  over 
that  he  was  never  to  be  seen  again. 

The  Strand  is  almost  entirely  given  up  to  shops  and  places 
of  business.  Go  where  you  will  in  it  and  you  are  sure  to  find 
a  constant  succession  of  draper's  shops,  book-stores,  and  lun- 
cheon rooms.  There  are  several  journals  published  in  it.  The 
^'Nonconformist,''  edited  by  Edward  Miall,  one  of  the  first 
writers  in  London,  is  published  in  the  Strand.  "  Puncli'  is  on 
the  city  side  of  Temple  Bar — the  building  in  which  it  is  publish- 
ed stands  upon  the  spot  where  formerly  stood  the  house  in  which 
the  immortal  Milton  lived.  The  "  Morning  Chronicle'"  is 
published  in  the  Strand,  the  paper  on  which  Charles  Dickens 
was  once  a  reporter,  and  in  which  he  first  published  "  Sketches 
by  Boz."  The  "  Illustrated  London  News,''  and  many  other 
well-known  journals  are  also  published  in  it. 

The  noise  of  the  street  is  at  times  overpowering  to  a  person 
of  weak  nerves,  and  the  confusion  indescribable.  It  is  almost 
as  much  as  a  man's  life  is  worth  to  attempt  to  cross  it  on  cer- 
tain times.  Sometimes  for  half  a  mile  it  is  completely  choked 
up  with  vehicles  of  all  descriptions,  so  wedged  in  together 
that  a  long  time  elapses  before  the  current  moves  on  again. 
The  policeman  with  his  leather-topped  hat  and  baton  is  busy 
giving  an  order  here,  assisting  there,  and  exercising  in  a 
laughable  manner  his  authority.  There  have  been  occasions 
jvlien  a  dense  fog  has  suddenly  at  night  settled  down  upon 
the  Strand,  and  carriages  have  become  so  entangled  with 
each  other,  that  they  were  obliged  to  remain  until  the  fog 
raised  its  gloomy  pall  from  the  earth. 

There  are  many  circumstances  which  combine  to  make 
Charing  Cross  one  of  the  busiest  spots  in  London.  There, 
several  streets  pour  forth  iheir  crowds  of  people,  and  car 
nages  of  all  descriptions.  Standing  by  Nelson's  Column  ons 
can  on  one  hand  see  the  splendid  equipages  of  the  aristocracy, 


24  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

and  oil  the  other  get  a  good  view  of  the  competition  and 
spirit  and  energy  of  the  trade  in  the  city.  It  is  the  spot 
where  Commerce  and  Nobility  seem  to  shake  hands  with 
each  other — where  splendid  Pride  smiles  coldly  and  yet  half- 
patronizingly  down  upon  toiling  Industry  and  energetic  Trade. 

Edward  I.,  centuries  ago,  going  to  Westminster  Abbey  to 
inter  his  consort,  stopped  at  "  the  little  hamlet  of  Chariri.g," 
and  erected  a  cross  in  honor  of  the  resting-place.  There 
were  then  but  few  buildings  there — what  a  change  !  Upon 
the  identical  spot  where  the  cross  w^as  placed,  now  stands 
the  statue  of  Charles  I.  It  was  once  condemned  by  Parlia- 
ment to  be  broken  up,  but  was  saved  by  a  lover  of  royalty 
upon  the  spot ;  before  the  statue  was  replaced,  the  regicides 
suffered  death.  It  was  there  that  the  noble  Harrison  was  so 
inhumanly  tortured  to  death,  his  very  bowels  being  cut  out 
before  his  eyes  by  the  officers  of  the  unprincipled  and  luxuri- 
ous Charles  II. 

The  lofty  courage  which  the  regicides  exhibited  on  that 
spot  of  death,  made  a  profound  impression  upon  the  hearts  of 
the  people,  and  the  government  paused  amid  its  bloody  ca- 
reer for  very  fear.  Although  tortures  the  most  fiendish  were 
heaped  upon  Harrison,  not  a  single  murmur  escaped  his  lips, 
not  a  cry  or  reproach  until  he  was  seized  with  delirium. 
After  he  had  been  cut  down  alive  and  his  bowels  cast  into 
the  fii'e  before  his  eyes,  by  his  executioner,  he  rose  on  his  feet 
and  gave  the  wretch  a  blow  on  his  ear.  The  act  was,  how- 
ever, a  delirious  one,  for  during  the  earlier  stages  of  his  tor 
tures,  when  he  must  have  felt  more  keenly  the  agony  of  suf- 
fering, he  was  calm  and  uncomplaining,  and  suffered  like  a 
Christian  martyr. 

We  have  often,  when  on  the  spot,  contrasted  the  noise  and 
tumult  of  the  scene  around  it  with  the  quiet  and  beautiful 
Sfiave  of  one  of  the  regicides  on  the  Green  in  the  city  of  New 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  51 

Haven — the  calm  and  natural  death  of  one,  with  the  liorribib 
atrocities  which  caused  the  death  of  the  other. 

Tavistock-street,  which  lies  just  in  the  rear  of  a  portion  of 
the  Strand,  is  the  place  where  Lord  Sandwich  first  saw  the 
beautiful  but  unfortunate  actress,  Miss  Ray.  Maiden  Lane, 
not  far  off,  was  the  street  in  which  Voltaire,  resided  while  in 
England,  and  from  a  house  in  it  he  wrote  a  celebrated  letter 
to  Dsan  Swift. 

There  is  another  street,  not  far  from  Tavistock-street,  Rus- 
sell-street, which  once  contained  the  little  book-shop  where 
James  Boswell  was  first  introduced  to  the  great  Dr.  Johnson. 
Little  did  the  loquacious  and  fawning  Scotchman  then  sup- 
pose that  he  was  one  day  to  become  the  biographer  of  the 
man  before  whom  he  trembled,  and  in  that  manner  hand 
himself,  arm-in-arm  with  Samuel  Johnson,  down  to  succeed- 
ing ages  !  Who  that  has  ever  read  his  life  of  Johnson,  will 
ever  forget  his  description  of  the  interview  in  the  little  book- 
shop in  E-ussell- street  ?  Who  does  not  delight  to  forget  him- 
self and  the  cares  which  press  sorely  about  him  in  the  pages 
of  Boswell,  notwithstanding  all  their  adulation  ?  He  tells  us 
honestly  and  simply  how  he  felt  before  "  the  awful  approach" 
of  the  author  of  the  Rambler,  and  it  is  for  this  childish  sin- 
cerity that  he  is  so  liked.  A  man  who  will  not  hesitate,  as 
he  did  not,  to  describe  scenes  wherein  he  himself  acted  the 
part  of  a  fool,  for  the  pleasure  of  the  friend  he  is  describing, 
may  be  relied  on  as  a  truth-teller.  It  was  utterly  impossible 
for  him  to  worship  more  than  one  man,  and  he  was  Johnson  ; 
and  he  wrote  one  of  the  most  interesting  biographies  that  ever 
was  written,  when  he  wrote  the  life  of  his  great  hero,  the 
great  master  in  English  literature.  Macaulay,  however,  has* 
very  conclusively  shown  that,  however  great  a  master  in  lite- 
rature, he  was  not  without  grievous  faults  as  a  man,  and  that 
he  used  his  pen  against  the  cause  of  liberty. 

There  is  a  building  in  Holborn-street,  now  occupied  by  a 


26  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOX. 

wholesale  dealer  in  furniture,  which  once  contained  in  a  little 
garret-room  the  boy-poet,  Chatterton.  We  visited  it  one  day 
but  discovered  no  traces  of  the  garret-room.  In  answer  to 
our  inquiries,  the  proprietor  informed  us  that  Lord  Bacon 
once  had  a  suite  of  apartments  in  it — the  name  of  Chattertoa 
he  seemed  never  to  have  heard  before  !  It  was  there  that 
Chatterton  lived  for  a  short  time  and  perished.  It  was  there 
that,  after  being  deserted  by  friend  after  friend,  and  while  on 
the  point  of  starvation,  with  his  own  hands  he  ended  his 
young  life.  He  was  dying  by  inches  with  hunger,  while  the 
conceited  Walpole,  who  had  turned  him  off  to  die  with  less 
compunction  than  a  hunter  would  feel  when  shooting  a  deer, 
was  luxuriously  supplied  with  all  that  wealth  could  purchase  ; 
and  so  the  young  poet  was  buried  among  the  paupers  of  Shoe 
Lane  !  But  the  world  has  not  suffered  his  name  and  mem- 
ory to  perish  ;  and  though  no  shaft  of  marble  may  t^ver  tell 
the  stranger  where  his  dust  lies,  yet  he  shall  never,  so  long 
as  the  English  language  lives,  be  forgotten !  He  lives  as 
well  as  Horace  Walpole,  and  it  is  easier  to  forgive  his  errors, 
committed  while  in  despair,  and  while  tasting  the  woes  of 
bitterest  poverty,  than  to  forgive  those  of  the  nobleman  who, 
amid  all  the  rich  blessings  which  God  had  shed  upon  him, 
grew  fastidious  and  proud,  and  despised  God's  image  unless 
it  were  covered  with  the  insignia  of  nobility. 

ST.  CLEMENT'S  INN. 

There  are  in  London  many  quaint  old  places,  and  it  was 
always  our  delight  when  there  to  linger  about  them.  There 
is  one  which  opens  into  the  Strand.  We  had  often  noticed 
while  walking  in  it  a  queer-looking  archway,  on  the  northern 
side,  with  enormous  pillars,  and  looking  more  like  the  en- 
trance to  a  palace  than  anything  less  pretending.  As  noth- 
ing presented  itself  to  view  beyond  them,  save  a  row  of  littk 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  27 

shops,    a  cluster  of  orange- women,  and  hot-potato-boys,   we 
came  to  the  conchision  that  the  grand  entrance  mu&t  have 
been  the  work  of  some  madman  who  chanced  to  have  gold 
as  well  as  a  disordered  brain,  until  in  reading  one  of  Albert 
*  Smith's  stories,  we  got  at  the  truth  of  the  matter.     One  of 
his  renowned  characters,  (in   "  Christopher  Tadpcle,")   Mr. 
Gudge  the  lawyer,  had  his  office  beyond  these  pillars,  and  his 
poor  clerk  used  to  come  and  buy  a  hot  potato  occasionally  of 
Stipier,  under  the  archway,  which  was  a  most  grandiloquent 
preface  to  modest  and  ruinous — St.  Clement's  Inn  ;  a  quarter 
sadly  infested  with  lawyers.     During  our  next  walk  up  the 
Strand,  we  entered  the  opening  with  a  desire  to  gaze  at  a 
spot  sacred  to  law.     At  first  we  saw  nothing  but  a  succession 
of  dirty  shops,  and  the  street  gradually  narrowed  down  to  a 
mere  foot-path,  so  that  the  archway  could  never  have  been 
intended  for  the  entrance  of  carriages  ;  for  should  they  enter, 
there  would  be  no  retreat  except  by  a  reversion  of  the  wheels. 
We  soon  entered  the  open  court  of  the  Inn,  and  it  certainly 
was  one  of  the  quaintest  places  we  ever  were  in  before.     The 
court  was  square,  with  a  little  central  plot  of  ground  enclcsed 
by  what  was  once  an  iron  fence  of  some  solidity,  but  which 
now  was  in  a  state  of  melancholy  dilapidation.     The  grass 
on  the  small  bit  of  lawn  was  bright  and  green,  but  the  two 
or  three  old  trees  which  were  there  looked  forlorn  enough. 
The  buildings,  which  were  of  brick,  were  of  a  sickly  hue, 
and  there  was  a  stillness  over  everything  like  that  of  a  coun- 
try church-yard.     This  then  was  the  spot  in  honor  of  which 
the  imposing  archway  had  been  erected  ;  this  was  the  home 
for  lawyers.     A  more  dismal,  ghost-like  place  we  hope  never 
to  see,  and  by  a  slight  use  of  imagination,  we  could  believe 
the  spot  haunted  with  the  spirits  of  ruined   clients.     The 
patch  of  beautiful  grass  under  our  feet  and  the  strip  of  heav- 
en's blue   overhead,  only  made  the  gloominess   by  contrast 
more  intense. 


28  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

The  houses  seemed  to  have  existed  for  centuries,  so  antique 
were  they  in  every  feature.  The  lawyers  in  them  were  either 
not  in  them,  or  were  still  as  a  breezeless  day  on  the  ocean. 
The  iron  pickets  of  the  fence  were,  some  of  them,  broken  and 
thers  nearly  rusted  out  with  age.  The  noise  of  the  Strand 
fjoated  indistinctly,  in  surges,  to  our  ears,  for  a  thick  breast- 
work of  buildings  guarded  the  spot  from  the  passionate  cries 
and  noises  of  the  world.  The  distance  was  not  long — a  few 
steps  would  bring  us  into  the  busiest  thoroughfare  in  London  ; 
and  still  this  antiquated  place  was  as  quiet  as  if  a  mortal  had 
*not  placed  foot  in  it  for  half  a  century.  The  spirit  of  progress 
or  improvement  had  not  dared  to  lay  its  innovating  finger 
upon  aught.  It  would  have  been  an  easy  matter  to  suppose 
that  it  looked  the  same  in  the  days  of  Coke.  While  we  were 
there  we  saw  only  one  person  ;  he  had  gray  hair,  and  wore 
old-fashioned  breeches,  and  stockings,  and  seemed  to  be  the 
guardian  spirit  of  the  quaint  old  spot.  There  is  egress  from 
the  place  by  foot-paths,  through  gates,  northward  into  Hol- 
born  and  southward  into  the  Strand.  Turning  southward,  in 
a  few  minutes  v^^e  plunged  into  the  uproar  and  confusion  of 
the  street — it  seemed  like  passing  from  death  once  more  into 
hfe ! 

SMITHFIELD. 

Some  distance  to  the  north-east  of  St.  Clement's  Inn  is 
Smith  field  Market,  where  live  cattle  are  bought  and  sold  ;  a 
place  renowned  wherever  the  religion  of  Protestantism  is 
known  ;  for  upon  that  open  area  of  ground  Latimer  and  Rid- 
ley were  burned.  But  it  is  a  sorry  place  in  which  to  indulge 
in  sentiment,  for  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  nuisances  in  London. 

We  arose  early  one  Monday  morning  and  visited  it  before 
breakfast.  On  our  way  we  crossed  "  Bartholomew  Close,"  the 
place  where  the  author  of  Paradise  Lost  once  hid  himself  from 
his  governmental  persecutors.    We  also  saw  "  the  Barbican." 


FIRST    IMPRESSIONS.  29 

Although  it  was  very  early  when  we  stood  with  "  Smith- 
Held"  before  us  yet  the  market  was  fall  of  cattle.  The  place 
was  exceedingly  noxious,  and  it  struck  us  that  it  must  be  ex- 
ceedingly prejudicial  to  the  health  of  the  inhabitants  who  V9 
bide  in  the  streets  in  its  vicinity. 

The  market  is  an  open  area,  paved  with  small  round  stones, 
and  contains  eight  or  nine  acres  of  ground.  In  one  quarter 
there  were  hundreds  of  small  enclosures  for  sheep,  pigs  and 
calves,  and  across  the  other  portions  strong  fences  ran  to  which 
the  cattle  are  generally  tied.  Sometimes  a  circle  of  "  beeves" 
IS  made  by  obliging  a  dozen  of  them  to  turn  their  heads  to- 
gether in  a  common  centre,  and  a  good  driver  without  rope  or 
sentre-post  will  keep  a  dozen  of  powerful  cattle  together  for 
hours  in  this  manner.  There  were  that  morning  about  ten 
thousand  head  of  cattle  in  the  market,  and  perhaps  twenty 
thousand  head  of  sheep.  The  noise  and  confusion  of  the  place 
was  indescribable.  Scores  of  shepherd's  and  drover's  dogs 
were  tied  to  the  fences,  their  "  occupation  gone"  now  that  the 
cattle  or  sheep  were  penned  up  or  secured.  Nevertheless 
whenever  a  squad  of  sheep  were  marched  off  by  some  metro- 
politan buyer,  the  curs,  as  if  unaware  of  any  honest  bargain 
by  which  the  ownership  had  been  transferred,  set  up  a  shrill 
howl  of  discontent.  There  were  acres  of  cattle  and  sheep, 
and  hundreds  of  buyers  and  sellers,  and  all  in  the  very  heart 
of  London.  The  buildings  surrounding  the  market  were  gen- 
erally low  and  ancient  in  their  appearance,  and  their  inhabi- 
tants seemed  to  be  of  a  different  race  from  the  rest  of  the 
Londoners. 

And  this  was  where  "  the  fires  of  Smithfield"  were  lit !  On 
this  spot  the  first  martyrs  of  the  great  Reformation  perished 

There  was  something  strange  to  us  in  the  thought  that 
there  were  houses  before  us  whose  walls  saw  the  kindling 
flames  as  they  wrapt  in  their  lurid  glow  the  bodies  of  Ridley 
and  Latimer  !    But  Smithfield  is  not  now  the  field  for  martyrs 


30  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

to  perish  on — neither  is  it  hke  the  field  of  Waterloo — a  place 
which  nien  take  pleasure  in  visiting,  in  honor  of  heroic  deeds, 
for  Waterloo  is  yet  a  beautiful  spot,  while  Srnithfield  is  a 
nuisance.  Yet  the  deeds  of  the  martyrs  were  incomparably 
greater  and  holier  than  any  that  were  ever  enacted  upon  the 
field  of  Waterloo. 

We  were  sorry  we  had  visited  Srnithfield,  for  previously 
the  name  of  "  Smithfield"  had  a  sound  of  heroic  martyrdom 
in  it,  but  henceforth  its  name  is  redolent  of  traffic  and  wild 
bulls  and  unpleasant  odors. 

It  is  strange  that  so  civilized  a  city  as  London  has  allowed 
so  long  a  live  cattle-market  in  its  bosom.  What  would  Bos- 
tonians  think  if  Brighton  Market  were  held  on  the  Common  ? 
■ — think  that  all  Cochituate  could  not  wash  out  the  disgrace  I 
Yet  London  has  allowed  the  intolerable  nuisance  for  ages. 
Heads  of  cattle  are  constantly  driven  to  and  from  the 
market  through  the  principal  streets  of  the  city,  to  the  constant 
danger  of  the  people.  Many  lives  have  been  sacrificed— 
women  have  been  gored  to  death  on  the  public  side-walks. 
There  is  nothing  in  the  world  which  clings  so  long  to  life  as 
an  old,  London  "  privilege."  But  at  last  Parliament  has  in- 
terfered, and  the  market  is  doomed.  It  was  in  vain  that  half 
the  v/ealth  of  London  clung  to  the  dangerous  "  privilege,"  the 
legislators  for  the  kingdom  would  no  longer  look  on  such  a 
horrible  plague-spot  in  the  centre  of  the  greatest  city  in  the 
civilized  world  !  The  men  of  capital  stirred  every  nerve  to 
prevent  the  parliamentary  act,  but  were,  thank  heaven,  de- 
feated. It  is  proposed  by  some  to  turn  the  market  into  a 
park^ — a  happy  thought.  A  marble  shaft  should  then  point 
out  thi?  spot  where  the  martyrs  perished,  and  it  would  be  a 
sacred  place  to  the  Protestants  of  the  world. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    PARKS. 

There  is  no  park  in  London  which,  in  point  of  fashion,  at 
all  approaches  to  Hyde  Park.  There  is  Victoria  Park  away 
in  the  eastern  part  of  London,  amid  beggars  and  poor  people, 
mechanics  and  small  tradesmen — its  acres  have  God's  sky 
over  them  like  those  in  Hyde,  but  never  a  man  of  ton  sets  his 
foot  there,  for  it  is  too  vulgar,  too  plebeian  ground  I  Its  grass 
is  just  as  green  and  soft  as  that  in  wealthier  quarters — and 
the  poor  bless  God  for  it — ^but  splendid  carriages  are  never  to 
be  seen  in  it,  nor  people  of  wealth  and  respectable  standing  in 
society,  reckoning  after  the  English  manner. 

St,  James  Park  is  beautiful,  but  it  is  not  fitted  for  car- 
riages like  Hyde,  and  Fashion  never  deigns  to  walk  in  town 
during  the  season. 

Green  Park  spreads  out  in  front  of  Piccadilly,  and  is  pleas- 
ant, but  it  has  no  Serpentine  river  to  add  to  its  beauty.  It  ia 
a  famous  place  for  the  children  to  romp  in,  and  scream,  and 
dance,  and  play  wild  sports.  Poor  men's  children  are  fond  of 
coming  there  to  catch  a  sight  of  the  blue  skies,  and  to  play 
in  the  free  breezes  which  sweep  across  it.  The  stomachs  of 
the  elite  are  altogether  too  delicate  to  bear  the  sight  of  these 
ragged  and  dirty-faced  children — if  they  were  as  delicate  in 
the  treatment  of  their  consciences,  it  would  be  better  for  them- 
selves and  the  world  lying  in  misery  about  them. 

Regent's  Park  is  of  greater  extent  than  any  other  in  the 


82  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

Metropolis.  It  has  its  Botanical  and  Zoological  Gardens,  its 
Hippopotamus,  and  in  fact  all  manner  of  wild  beasts,  so  that 
the  miUion  go  there,  not  for  fresh  air,  or  to  exhibit  them- 
selves, but  to  see  its  curious  sights,  just  as  they  flock  to  the 
National  Gallery,  or  the  Museum. 

The  only  park  where  people  may  be  said  to  go  to  see,  and 
be  seen,  is  Hyde  Park,  and  as  it  is  tlie  only  fashionable  one  in 
London,  is  worthy  of  a  careful  description. 

Its  extent  is  not  far  from  400  acres.  Regent's  Paik  has  an 
area  of  over  400  ;  St.  James  of  83  ;  Kensington  Gardens, 
290;  Green  Park,  71;  Victoria  Park,  IGO  ;.  and  Green- 
wich Park,  174.  So  that  London  is  very  well  off  for  breath- 
ing-spots, considering  the  immense  worth  of  space  Avhere  the 
parks  are  situated.  Still  there  is  a  strong  party  who  are 
urging  upon  Parliament  to  construct  still  another  park  for  the 
people  in  the  region  of  Finsbury. 


HYDE  PARK 

Hyde  Park  is  situated  in  the  centre  of  the  .fashion  and  re- 
epectability.  Piccadilly  runs  into  it  ;  "  Belgravia"  (the  region 
of  Belgrave  Square)  lies  a  trifle  to  the  south-east  of  it,  while 
Bromjiton  is  a  little  to  the  south-west.  Green  Park  runs  up 
as  close  to  it  as  the  pathway  which  separates  them  will  allow, 
and  St.  James'  Park  stands  in  about  the  same  relation  to 
Green  Park,  that  Green  does  to  Hyde,  so  that  there  are  three 
parks  touching  each  other  at  the  corners.  One  may  start  at 
the  Horse  Guards  in  St.  James'  Park,  and  go  in  a  north- 
western direction  over  green  fields  for  a  long  distance  uutii 
at  the  farther  end  of  Hyde  Park. 

We  have  often  walked  in  Hyde  Park,  and  yet  were  never 
fond  of  it  in  the  afternoon  of  the  "  season,"  for  then  there  is 
always  such  a  blaze  of  fashion  there,  as  to  make  it  unpleasant 


THE    PARKS.  33 

to  any  one  whose  object  in  coming,  is  to  get  fresh  air  and 
exercise. 

One  frosty  morning,  when  the  renowned  Crystal  Palace 
was  being  buiit,  with  a  friend,  we  arose  early  to  give  it  a 
visit,  well  knowing  that  at  that  hour  of  the  day,  as  well  as 
season  of  tbe  year, — the  fashionables  being  in  the  country — we 
were  secure  from  any  crowd  of  people.  We  entered  Piccadilly 
— a  street  which  contains  some  of  the  finest  residences  in  the 
world,  and  which  at  the  same  time  is  one  of  the  noisiest  and 
busiest  thoroughfares  in  Jjondon.  On  Park  Lane  corner,  we 
hesitated  a  moment^  to  gaze  at  the  residence  of  Mr.  Abbott 
Lawrenc),  our  Minister  at  the  Court  of  St.  James.  The 
building  is  a  rich  and  substantial  affair  and  must  rent  enor- 
mously in  that  quarter,  but  happily  Mr.  Lawrence  has  money 
enough  aside  from  his  salary  to  support  himself  in  almost  any 
style  of  grandeur.  We  believe  Americans  find  no  fault  with 
his  hospitality — those  Americans  who  are  in  London.  The 
only  time  we  ever  entered  his  superb  mansion,  we  were  on 
business,  to  get  a  passport  viso&d  for  the  Continent.  We, 
with  the  friend  with  us,  were  treated  with  great  politeness. 
In  fact  all  the  officers  of  the  American  Embassy  in  London 
are  in  good  repute.  There  are  many  who  yet  speak  of  Mr.  Ban- 
croft, our  former  Minister  at  London,  in  terms  of  great  respect 
and  praise.  The  American  Consul  in  London — who  has,  we 
believe,  held  his  post  for  a  long  time— is  worthy  of  all  praise. 
So  far  as  our  own  expei  'ence  goes,  and  it  tallies  exactly  with 
that  of  many  other  Americans  we  have  seen,  he  is  invariably 
kind  and  attentive  to  Americans,  and  we  doubt  whether  we 
have  a  more  faithful  officer  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 

Leaving  Park  Lane  corner  behind,  we  soon  came  in  sight 
of  the  grand  arched  entrance  to  the  Park,  on  the  right,  and 
stopping  first,  a  few  moments  to  gaze  at  an  enormous  statue 
of  the  Duke  of  Welhngton,  which  stands  on  the  left,  we 
passed  under  the  archway  into  the  Park. 
''*  3 


34  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

After  entering,  we  stopped  again  to  gaze  at  the  residence  of 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  which  stands  on  a  corner  of  the  Park 
and  Piccadilly. 

Yes,  we  were  in  the  front  of  the  famous  Apsley  Hous?, 
the  home  of  "  the  hero  of  a  hundred  fights  I"  In  front  of  his 
drawing-room  windows,  stands  the  great  monument  in  memory 
of  his  deeds — he  can  never  look  out  of  his  windows  without 
seeing  it,  and  were  he  so  modest  as  to  ever  forget  them,  that 
would  be  no  gentle  reminder  of  his  military  greatness. 

"  But  look  at  those  western  windows  I"  said  our  friend, 
pointing  at  all  the  windows  which  fronted  the  Park. 

'•  Yes !"  we  replied,  "  iron  shutters  are  over  every  one,  and 
that  reminds  us  of  a  portion  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington's 
character." 

"How?" 

"  Why,  in  the  times  of  the  great  Reform  Bill  Agitation, 
years  ago,  this  '  Iron  Duke,'  whom  the  people  had  worshipped 
so  abjectly,  bitterly  opposed  them,  and  stood  sword  in  hand 
in  defence  of  the  most  outrageous  frauds.  He  was  ready  to 
shed  his  blood  in  defence  of  the  iniquitous  rotten  borough 
system,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  offer  to  march  an  arniy  to 
Birmingham  and  shoot  down  the  crowds  of  people,  who  were 
justly  dissatisfied  with  the  gross  oppression  of  the  aristocracy. 
And  he  would  perhaps  have  done  it,  had  he  not  upon  sound- 
ing his  officers,  discovered  the  frightful  fact  to  him,  that  in 
such  a  civil  warfare,  they  could  not  be  depended  on  !  He 
was  then  in  power  as  Prime  Minister,  and  the  people  wanted 
him  to  resign  and  make  way  for  liberal  principles,  but  he 
would  not.  It  was  then  that  in  their  anger,  they  gathered  in 
mobs  about  his  residence,  and  broke  in  pieces  these  western 
windows,  which  he  had  ironed  up  as  they  now  remain. 
However,  the  iron-willed  soldier  was  broken  down  by  the 
spirit  of  the  nation,  and  at  midnight  of  a  memorable  day^ 
resigned  his  power  into  the  hands  of  the  sovereign," 


THE    PARKS.  85 

But  now  the  spacious  Park  lay  spread  out  before  our  eyes 
with  its  acres  of  green  turf,  and  its  lofty  trees,  with  gracetul 
branches.  All  winter  long,  the  grass  in  the  English  Parks 
looks  verdant ;  either  because  the  frosts  are  not  sufficiently 
powerful  to  wither  it,  or  because  frost  does  not  affect  English 
grass  as  it  does  that  in  America,  It  seemed  like  a  country 
view,  if  only  Piccadilly  and  Knightsbridge  could  have  been  shut 
cut  from  the  scene.  The  Serpentine  Kiver  looked  beautiful 
ill  the  morning's  sun,  stretching  gracefully  away  into  Kensing- 
ton Grardens.  We  walked  down  to  the  edge  of  the  sheet  of 
water,  and  found  a  thin  coating  of  ice  already  formed  on  a 
portion  of  it.  When  it  is  frozen  sufficiently  thick  to  bear  the 
weight  of  men,  the  sight  on  a  frosty  morning  is  a  stirring  one, 
for  the  whole  area  of  ice  will  then  be  covered  with  skaters, 
young  and  old.  Some  of  course  will  understand  the  art,  and 
will  glide  gracefully  away  with  the  swiftness  of  a  bird,  here 
and  there,  making  circles  and  elliptical  figures  in  profusion. 
But  the  majority  will  be  either  beginners,  or  awkward  per- 
formers, and  the  figures  which  they  cut  are  ludicrous  enough 
— only  equalled  by  the  performances  of  Mr.  Samuel  Pickwick 
on  Mr.  Wardle's  ice-pond  I 

Himdreds  are  gathered  to  enjoy  the  sport  on  the  banks  of  the 
stream,  who  shout  and  laugh  at  the  sudden  descent  of  some 
unlucky  amateur  upon  the  hard  ice,  while  those  who  are  ex- 
pert, win  plaudits  from  fine  gentlemen  and  beautiful  ladies. 
Upon  the  river,  or  its  bank,  scattered  near  the  most  dangerous 
places,  are  the  men  in  the  employ  of  the  Eoyal  Humane 
Society,  as  well  as  some  of  the  metropolitan  police,  ready  for 
any  accident ;  and  not  a  season  passes  away  during  which 
several  are  not  rescued  from  a  death  in  the  Serpentine.  They 
stand  ready  with  their  instruments,  their  hooks  and  ropes,  and 
other  contrivances  for  rescuing  those  who  may  chance  to  be  too 
venturesome  and  break  through  the  ice,  so  that  every  one  is 
willing  to  run  risks,  he  is  so  sure  of  being  saved.     Sometimes 


'  'i  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LOXDOX. 

there  are  weeks  together  when  there  is  skating  on  the  Ser< 
pontine,  but  that  is  a  rare  thing.  A  few  days  of  ice- weather 
is  almost  always  folio v/ed  by  mild  weather,  which  melts 
away  the  ice  and  spoils  the  excellent  sport  in  which  the  boys 
and  men  join. 

Passing  along  one  of  the  avenues  for  carriages,  we  soon 
came  in  sight  of  the  Cr3^stal  Palace,  or  building  of  the  Great 
Exhibition.  It  was  not  finished,  but  the  structure  was  so 
far  completed  as  to  give  to  us  an  idea  of  its  wonderful  beauty. 
It  lay  away  to  the  south-western  extremity  of  the  Park,  and 
showed  well  from  almost  any  quarter  save  the  thoroughfare 
in  front  of  it,  which  wa&  too  near  for  a  good  view. 

The  workmen  were  all  over  it,  and  around  it,  like  bees 
in  a  hive,  making  the  air  hum  with  their  industrious  noise. 
It  was  the  song  of  labor — not  so  sweet  perhaps  as  Jenny 
Lind's  thriUing  notes,  and  yet  of  far  more  im[)ortance.  What 
but  labor  could  construct  such  a  palace  of  glass,  to  be  the 
wonder  and  delight  of  the  nations  ?  What  but  labor  could 
have  exhibited  such  a  sight  as  the  World's  Fair  ? 

While  we  stood  looking  upon  the  wonderful  sight,  and  lis- 
tening to  the  music  of  the  workmen's  hammers,  two  young 
ladies  stopped  not  far  from  us  to  gaze  also  at  the  fairy  struc» 
ture.  They  were  neatly  attired,  and  had  evidently  come  out 
in  despite  of  fashion  for  an  early  walk  before  breakfast,  for 
the  sake  of  health.  One  of  them  had  dark  hair,  which 
swept  back  across  her  argent  neck  in  curls,  while  her  eyes 
were  like  diamonds.  The  other  had  cheeks  which  might 
ival  the  most  delicate  rose,  the  crimson  and  m.arble  were  so 
exquisitely  intermixed. 

"  Here,"  said  our  friend,  "  are  two  ladies  who  dare  to  laugh 
at  Fashion,  for  if  they  were  her  devotees  they  would  not  be 
here  at  this  day  or  hour  I" 

Yet  they  were  very  beautiful,  and  probably  wealthy,  and  a 
health  was  theirs,  which  the  women  of  fashion  never  know. 


THE    PARKS.  dl 

What  a  luxury  it  is  to  meet  in  society  a  woman  of  beauty 
and  perhaps  rank,  and  especially  intellect,  who  acts  the  pure 
woman  out  in  daily  life,  never  curbing  in  her  sweet  benevo- 
lence to  suit  the  cold  dictates  of  fashion-mongers;  never  re- 
fusing to  pluck  flowers  while  the  dew  is  on  them,  because 
the  rich-vulgar  say  that  the  night  was  made  for  those  who 
have  money  and  rank,  and  the  day  for  the  poor  who  must 
work  ! 

But  the  fair  couple  soon  tripped  away,  leaving  us  to  moral- 
ize as  we  pleased  on  women  and  fashion,  and  rank  and  labor. 

It  was  in  Hyde  Park,  if  we  recollect  aright,  that  Sir 
Robert  Peel  met  with  the  accident  which  resulted  in  his 
death.  E-iding  up  one  of  the  avenues  his  horse  became 
frightened,  threw  him  to  the  ground,  and  fell  upon  him  with 
so  much  force  that  he  was  fatally  wounded,  and  in  a  few 
hours  the  man  who  was  the  glory  of  the  British  nation,  and 
who  a  short  time  before  was  in  the  full  vigor  of  manhood, 
lay  a  cold  corpse,  and  the  nation  was  in  tears.  It  was  a 
sudden  and  awful  stroke,  and  the  nation  trembled. 

It  was  in  this  Park,  too,  that  many  years  ago,  Oliver  Crom- 
well met  with  an  accident  which  came  near  proving  fatal  to 
his  life.  Riding  over  these  grounds  one  day,  he  took  a  iancy 
to  drive  his  carriage,  and  so  mounted  the  driver's  seat,  and 
grasped  the  reins.  But  he  was  awkward  at  the  business  of 
driving  horses,  or  the  steeds  were  not  aware  that  it  was  great 
Oliver  P.  who  guided  them,  for  they  ran  and  overturned 
the  carriage.  Cromwell  was  thrown  out,  and  the  loaded 
pistol  which  he  invariably  wore  about  his  person  went  off', 
tho  charge  escaping  his  body  only  by  a  hair's  breadth. 

Bui  we  have  spoken  of  this  Park  as  the  park  of  fashion 
and  must  say  something  of  its  appearance  when  it  is  in  alJ 
its  peculiar  glory.  That  is  in  May  and  June,  on  any  pleas- 
ant day  after  one  o'clock.  It  is  the  height  of  vulgarity  to 
appear  in  it  much  before  that  hour,  but  after — -what  a  blaze 


38  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

of  fashion  !  Then  all  the  various  avenues  are  crowded  with 
brilliant  equipages,  horsemen  and  gentlemen  on  foot.  Thou- 
sands are  gathered  there  upon  this  spot ;  the  carriages  full  of 
gpJendidly- attired  ladies,  who  are  continually  nodding  (how 
very  slightly  !)  their  heads  to  this  person  and  that,  while  the 
lioTses  slowly  pace  up  one  pathway  and  down  another.  Yon- 
der you  see  the  carriage  of  the  Field  Marshal,  Duke  of  VVel- 
Imgtoii,  and  in  it  sits  an  old  man  with  white  hairs,  and  a 
back  bent  with  age,  and  a  nose  never-  to  be  mistaken — the 
Homan  nose  of  the  hero  of  Waterloo  I  There  perhaps  you 
see,  upon  a  prancing  steed,  the  black-haired  and  brilliant- 
eyed  D'Israeli,  bowing  to  this  Duchess  or  that  Honorable 
Mrs.  Somebody.  There  goes  the  Countess  of  Jersey,  prouder 
in  her  mien  than  the  Q,ueen  herself — and  close  following 
after,  in  chaste  carriage,  that  sweet  poetess,  the  beautiful 
"  Undying  One,"  the  Honorable  Mrs,  Norton. 

Crowd  surges  after  crowd  as  wave  follows  wave  out  in  the 
ocean,  made  up  of  wealth,  and  rank,  and  intellect. 

In  Hyde  Park  many  a  love-affair  has  been  nursed,  and 
many  an  intrigue  carried  on.  You  see  that  fair  young  man, 
perhaps  modestly  on  foot  among  these  crowds,  how  earnestly 
he  looks  for  one  carriage,  and  Avhen  at  last  he  spies  it  coming 
straight  up  towards  him  in  the  distance,  how  nervous  he 
looks — and  now  that  it  is  against  him,  takes  off  his  hat  to  that 
fair  young  girl  in  it,  who  crimsons  to  her  forehead  as  she, 
watching  carefully  that  no  one  sees  her,  drops  her  white  kid 
glove  to  him  !  Alas  for  her ; — 'tis  a  case  of  secret  love,  and 
the  chances  are  ten  to  one  that  some  match-making  mamma 
will  break  her  young  heart.  But  all  intrigues  carried  on 
here  are  not  so  pure  and  innocent  as  this.  Many  is  the  home 
which  has  bijen  made  wretched  by  soft  whispers  uttered  here, 
many  the  seduction  coolly  carried  on  from  day  to  day  until 
the  ruin  was  complete,  of  some  creature  whom  God  had  once 
fashioned  pure  and  beautiful. 


THE    PARKS.  39 

Sunday  is  said  tG  be  the  day  when  the  Park  is  fullest- 
then  there  are  sometimes  30,000  or  40,000  people  in  it. 

VICTORIA  PAEK. 

But  from  looking  at  the  Park  of  fashion  let  us  turn  to  tha 
Victoria  Park.  We  visited  it  one  Sunday  afternoon,  because 
nothing  is  to  be  seen  in  it  save  on  Sundays,  when  the  labor- 
ng  population  is  not  at  work.  This  park  is  emphatically  the 
park  of  the  poor.  No  fashion  enters  it  ;  wealth  and  so-styled 
respectability  shun  it.  It  is  situated  north-east  of  London, 
and  immediately  adjoins  Bethnal  Green  and  Spitalfields, 
those  great  rendezvous  for  the  wretched,  vile,  and  suffer- 
ing. It  is  miles  east  of  that  great  airing-place  of  the  aris- 
tocracy, Hyde  Park,  and  has  no  fellowship  with  any  of  the 
other  parks.  It  is  kicked  out  of  their  society  for  its  want  of 
name,  ancient  associations,  and  its  poverty. 

Yet,  though  the  grounds  are  new  and  not  all  laid  out,  it  i;. 
a  beautiful  park.  Its  entrance-gate  is,  though  not  costly,  in 
good  taste,  and  the  first  department  is  laid  out  very  grace- 
fully. There  are  miniature  lakes  in  it,  full  of  swans  and 
other  aquatic  birds.  A  beautiful  island  is  formed  by  one  of 
them,  and  upon  it  there  is  an  elegant  and  fairy-like  structure 
in  the  Chinese  style  of  architecture,  which  is,  in  the  proper 
season,  almost  buried  among  a  profusion  of  flowers  and  shrubs 
and  plants.  The  open  fields  are  kept  beautifully  green,  the 
walks  are  well  gravelled,  and  it  is  one  of  the  healthiest  spotr 
within  ten  or  fifteen  miles  of  London,  in  any  direction. 

The  proximity  of  Bethnal  Green  is  aprt  to  subtract  from 
the  pleasure  of  visiting  it,  but  in  a  few  minutes'  walk,  if 
you  choose,  you  can  leave  all  London  out  of  sight. 

It  was  one  Sunday  afternoon  when  we  started  out  to  see 
Victoria  Park  in  all  its  glory — ^^dth  the  people  it  was  intend- 
ed for,  in  it.     Our  walk  lay  through  a  portion  of  Spitalfields 


40  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON 

and  Bethnal  Green,  and  was  not  pleasant.  The  streets  wftfQ 
crowded  with  a  filthy  set  of  vagabonds — very  likely  so  be- 
cause they  were  unable  to  obtain  work — and  the  shops  were 
at  least  half  of  them  open  ;  the  gin-shops  especially  appear- 
ing to  be  driving  a  heavy  business.  Some  of  the  streets 
through  which  we  walked  were  very  low  and  dirty,  and 
sometimes  it  was  with  difficulty  that  we  faced  our  Avay 
through  them,  the  odors  that  greeted  us  at  every  step  were 
so  nauseating. 

After  a  long  walk  we  came  to  BethnaF Green,  where  there 
is  a  good-looking  church  and  a  pleasant  green,  though  the 
houses  and  streets  in  the  vicinity  are  all  of  the  poorest  kind, 
or  pretty  much  so. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  Park  was  in  sight.  Immediately 
in  front  of  the  Park-gate  there  are  two  or  three  acres  of  open 
land,  unenclosed,  upon  which  the  people  gather  for  any  kind 
of  meetings,  and  we  could  already  see  several  different 
crowds  or  assemblages.  The  people  were  the  workmen  of 
London,  that  we  could  see  plainly  enough  by  their  brawny 
arms,  work-worn  hands,  and  care-worn  faces.  The  mechan- 
ics of  London,  to  our  eye,  are  a  sad-looking  set  of  men.  They 
are  not  like  the  English  farmers  with  their  red  cheeks  and 
lasty  voices  ;  not  like  the.race  of  English  squires  fatted  upon 
roast-beef  and  plum-pudding,  but  are  either  beer- bloated  and 
sodden-eyed,  or  pale  and  care-worn. 

We  stopped  before  one  of  the  crowds  of  people  to  see  what 
was  the  subject  of  excitement.  There  were  two  or  three 
hundred  men  gathered  around  a  little  hillock,  upon  which  a 
pale  young  man  stood  delivering  a  sort  of  political  speech. 
Said  he,  in  earnest  tones,  as  we  approached  : 

"  Yes  I  hypocrite  Lord  Ashley  has  established  a  reading- 
room  for  working-men  !  A  reading-room  for  the  working- 
men  of  London  I  And  what  do  you  suppose  this  philan- 
thropic nobleman  gives  us  to  read  ?      Why  I  the  only  paper 


THE    PARKS.  41 

whici  we  can  find  there  is  the  bloody  Times  I  That  pa* 
per  which  calls  the  noble  Mazzini  a  scoundrel,  which  eu- 
logizes batcher  Haynau,  which  is  paid  for  its  advocacy  of 
despotism  by  Austria — that  is  the  paper  which,  my  Lord 
Asliley  dares  to  offer  us  to  read  !  He  and  the  proprietors 
of  that  paper  pretend  to  love  us,  and  yet  refuse  to  give  ns 
our  God-given  rights  I  Call  themselves  our  friends,  and 
still  tax  us  till  we  bleed  at  every  pore,  and  refuse  to  let  us 
vote  I" 

There  was  a  rough  eloquence  in  tho  words  of  the  speaker, 
and  the  crowd  that  gathered  about  him  seemed  to  feel  all 
that  the  rude  orator  felt,  and  to  despise  the  Times  and  the 
aristocracy.  We  watched  their  faces  carefully  to  get  some 
indications  of  the  spirit  within,  and  saw  clearly  by  the  com- 
pressed lips  and  clenched  fists  that  they  felt  keenly  the  des- 
potic conduct  of  the  English  nobles. 

We  passed  on  to  another  collection  of  people,  and  there 
''Universal  Suffrage"  was  the  theme  of  the  speaker.  He 
told  his  hearers  how  that  in  England  only  one  in  every  six 
of  male  adults  can  vote,  while  all  are  taxed  alike,  and  de- 
ta'led  some  of  the  abominations  which  are  practised  under 
the  "glorious  constitution  of  old  England." 

Going  on  a  little  further,  we  found  a  smaller  group  gath- 
ered about  an  honest  Scotchman,  who  with  an  open  Bible  in 
his  hand,  was  warning  his  hearers  to  "  flee  from  the  wrath 
to  come."  His  voice  was  raised  to  its  highest  pitch,  and  his 
body  kept  swaying  to  and  fro  in  a  most  ludicrous  manner, 
and  we  found  it  impossible  to  resist  a  quiet  smile.  Yet  we 
honored  the  pious  old  man  for  coming  to  such  a  place  and 
sowing  the  good  seed,  though  upon  such  a  barren  soil.  Every 
momxcnt  his  audience  grew  smaller,  until  at  last  only  two  or 
three  were  left,  and  the  preacher  closed  up  his  Bible  as  if  in 
despair. 

It  is  a  sad  thing,  but  there  are  frightful  masses  of  people 


i2  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

in  London,  who  know  little  and  care  less  for  the  Bible  or  re- 
ligion, and  what  is  sadder  still,  we  fear  the  English  churchea 
are  in  a  manner  to  blame  for  it.  These  hard-working  men 
have  got  to  think  that  a  religious  man  is  an  aristocrat,  that  a 
churchman  is  one  who  debars  them  from  their  political  rights. 
The  State-church  they  think  lives  upon  what  is  not  its  own  ; 
its  bishops  upon  immense  salaries  wrung  from  the  people 
vA'iile  they  are  starving.  They  see  the  well-dressed  religion- 
ists in  their  coaches  before  the  churches,  and  imagine  that 
the  Bible  upholds  oppression  and  fraud,  and  in  their  anger 
they  cast  it  beneath  their  feet.  Mistaken  men ! — and  yet  as 
such  to  be  pitied  as  condemned.  It  is  a  startling  fact,  and 
one  which  no  proper  judge  can  deny,  that  infidelity  is  in 
creasing  in  London  among  the  working  classes,  and  it  is  our 
belief  that  for  this  infidelity  those  persons  who  are  practical 
infidels,  though  professional  Christians,  must  to  a  g/eat  de- 
gree be  held  responsible.  These  poor  men  feel  that  their 
rights  are  defrauded  from  them,  and  no  amount  of  argument 
will  convince  them  that  their  defrauders  are  good  men.  It 
is  too  much  to  expect  that  the  oppressed  will  judge  their  op- 
pressors with  liberality. 

Victoria  Park  is  every  pleasant  Sunday  the  scene  of  gath- 
erings for  almost  blasphemous  purposes.  The  language  of 
some  of  the  speakers  is  many  times  fearfully  wicked,  but  it 
indicates  to  the  careful  observer  the  religious  condition  of  the 
poorest  classes  of  the  metropolis.  Upon  the  very  spot  v/here 
we  lingered  to  listen  to  the  pious  Scotchman,  Bishop  Bonner 
once  lived,  and  some  of  the  trees  are  now  standing  which 
used  to  flourish  in  his  garden. 

Turning  in  at  the  Entrance-gate,  we  were  among  a  better 
class  than  those  who  congregated  on  the  open  common  out- 
side of  it.  There  were  many  men,  women,  and  children 
wandering  over  the  grounds,  but  almost  all,  if  not  quite,  were 
of  the  humblest  classes.     There  was  but  a  sprinkling  of  wo- 


THE    PARKS.  48 

men,  as  the  women  of  the  wretched  classes  are,  if  anything-, 
worse  in  their  tastes  than  the  men.  Drunken  women  are  as 
common,  or  nearly  so,  in  London,  as  drunken  men. 

At  the  entrance  of  the  eastern  park — for  a  highway  divides 
the  park  in  two — there  is  a  pretty  porter's  cottage,  or  lodge, 
where  we  saw  all  manner  of  intoxicating  liquors,  and  also 
edibles. 

The  eastern  park  is  much  larger  than  the  western,  but  is 
not  so  well  cultivated,  or  so  tastefully  laid  out  and  decorated. 
It  is  much  like  any  public  common,  and  yet  we  liked  ram- 
bling over  it  better  than  over  its  more  civilized  neighbor,  for 
its  wildness  savored  more  of  the  country,  and  the  breezes 
seemed  freer  as  they  swept  over  it. 


CHAPTER  III. 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS. 


CHE-IST-CHUPuCH    HOSPITAL. 


Walkiig  one  day  towards  Holborn,  we  came  in  sight, 
suddenly,  of  Christ-church  Hospital  and  its  droves  of  bluecote 
boys  We  stopped  before  the  great  yard  in  front  of  the  build- 
ing, leaning  against  the  iron  railing  which  separated  the  spa- 
cious yard  and  the  boys  from  the  noisy  street,  and  looked  in 
iipon  the  young  children.  They  were  all  out  at  play  in  their 
long,  blue  "  cotes,"  or  rather  gowns,  and  all  were  bareheaded. 
We  believe  they  are  not  allowed  caps,  for  we  never  yet  saw 
one  of  them,  whether  at  the  hospital  or  threading  the  streets 
in  all  v/eathers,  with  any  covering  upon  the  head.  Their 
gown,  or  "  cote,"  as  it  is  called,  is  of  blue,  under  which  is  a 
yellow  skirt.  Their  legs  are  dressed  like  those  of  an  old 
squire  clinging  to  the  customs  of  an  age  long  since  gone  to 
'L)blivion.  Perhaps  fifty  of  the  boys  were  in  the  yard  at  play. 
Those  who  raced  and  leaped  rolled  up  their  gowns  in  a  pecu- 
liar manner,  so  as  to  have  their  nether  limbs  free  from  in 
iumbrance,  preaching  a  silent  sermon  in  favor  of  Bloomer- 
tsm  at  the  same  time.  Some  played  at  ball,  others  at  the 
aid  game  of  "  bye,"  while  others  still  stood  listlessly  around, 
gazing  at  the  active  ones.  The  sight  of  these  boys  brought 
our  school-days  vividly  to  mind,  and  while  gazing  at  thenr 
we  lived  them  over  ajrain. 


PLACPJS    AND    SIGEITS.  46 

We  remembered  that  gentle  Elia,  quaint  but  tender- 
hearted Charles  Lamb,  once  played  in  the  yard  before  us, 
and  frolicked  like  the  boys  we  were  now  gazing  at.  Here 
was  the  spot  where  he  was  educated,  and  which  he  has  so 
quaintly  described  in  his  sketches  of  his  school-day  life.  Does 
not  the  reader  remember  where  he  tells  about  one  poor  "  blue- 
cote  boy,"  who  was  noticed  to  conceal  at  diimer  slight  por- 
tions of  meat ;  how  for  this  he  was  watched  and  dogged  by 
his  fellows,  as  if  he  were  "ripe  for  Newgate,  or  the  galJows  ; 
and  at  last  it  became  evident  that  he  tvas  a  thief;  that  the 
bits  of  meat  which  he  saved  at  dinner  (irom  his  own  plate) 
were  certainly  carried  every  day  away  from  the  school,  the 
Hospital,  or  its  precincts,  and  disposed  of  in  some  strange  and 
unaccountable  manner  ?  And  how  at  last  when  the  poor 
boy  was  looked  upon  as  a  little  monster,  it  all  came  out : 
that  out  of  his  own  dinner  he  had  saved  enough  to  keep  a 
dear  father  and  mother  from  starvation,  suffering  hunger  him- 
self, to  help  them  in  their  dreadful  poverty- — and  how  the 
noble,  noble  boy  received  instead  of  a  reprimand,  a  reward 
for  his  generous,  and  even  heroic  conduct  ? 

While  we  stood  there,  Elia's  simple  but  pathetic  story 
came  fresh  into  mind,  and  we  could"  not  help  looking  upon 
the  play-ground  with  a  deeper  interest  because  of  it.  Lamb 
never  complained  of  the  treatment  he  received  w^hile  at 
Christ-church,  and  always  held  his  old  teachers  in  great  es- 
teem. And  a  kind  teacher  is  always  loved  in  after  years  by 
those  to  whom  he  has  shown  affection.  There  are  few  who 
are  grown  to  manhood  who  do  not  cherish  some  of  the  warm- 
est feelings  for  some  kind  old  instructor,  or  it  may  be  village 
schoolmaster,  who  wasted  his  life  in  preparing  the  young  to 
enjoy  the  world.  But  if  a  kind  teacher  is  never  forgotten,  it 
is  quite  as"  true  that  a  cruel  one  is  always  remembered.  A 
child  forgets  a  single  wrong  which  is  counterbalanced  by  kind- 
ness, but  never  continued  cruelty.     If  ever  he  meets  the  cruel 


46  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON". 

master  in  after  life,  he  looks  upon  him  with  a  shuddering  di« 
gust. 

Coleridge  was  educated  here — he  who  sang  so  sublimely 
of  "  Sovran  Blanc,"  before  his  eyes  had  rested  upon  it — and 
here  used  to  laugh  and  play  in  his  young  days.  But  some- 
how he  did  not  fare  so  well  as  Lamb,  for  he  says  he  used  to 
go  to  sleep  so  hungry  sometimes,  that  he  would  dream  all 
night  of  revelling  among  cakes  and  pies,  and  the  choicest 
dainties  ;  and  that  whenever  in  the  day-time  he  passed  the 
shops  where  tempting  edibles  were  exhibited  in  the  windows 
he  so  longed  for  them,  that  it  was  a  pain  to  go  past  them  I 

It  was  while  he  was  at  school  here,  that  he  caught  a  rheu- 
matism which  lasted  him  for  life.  Upon  a  holiday  he,  with 
some  of  his  fellows,  wandered  up  upon  the  banks  of  the  New 
E-iver.  Accepting  some  foolish  challenge,  Coleridge  plunged 
into  the  stream,  or  pond,  and  in  his  clothes  swam  across  it. 
He  remained  in  his  wet  clothes  all  day  at  play,  and  never  re- 
covered from  the  effects  of  his  folly. 

But  while  we  stood  leaning  against  the  iron  fence,  the  boys 
suddenly  left  the  play-ground,  and  entered  the  school  room. 
In  a  minute  the  yard,  v/hich  looked  so  pleasant  and  so  full 
of  life  just  before,  wore  an  air  of  sombre  sadness.  There  was 
a  gloom  over  the  spot  which  never  deigns  to  visit  the  green 
play-grounds  in  the  country.  We  looked  at  the  Hospital.  It 
is  a  fine-looking  structure — with  gray  and  venerable  walls, 
and  a  spire  and  turrets  which  are  graceful  without  any  com- 
promise of  dignity.  It  was  erected  as  a  hospital  for  2^oor  boys. 
This  was  the  intention  of  its  originator,  who  gave  the  funds 
which  support  it,  and  yet  in  a  strictly  legal  manner,  the  in- 
tentions of  the  donor  are  set  aside.  Only  those  boys  can  enter 
it  now  who  have  friends  and  considerable  money,  for  it  is  looked 
upon  as  a  fine  berth  for  a  boy.  We  forget  the  amount  which 
is  generally  paid  to  secure  a  situation  in  it,  but  it  is  pnough 
to  keep  out  all  literally  pooi'  boys.     It  is  a  very  common 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  4^ 

thing  in  this  world  to  see  in  such  benevolent  institutions  the 
wishes  of  the  founder  conripletely  overlooked  as  soon  as  he  is 
fairly  hid  from  sight  in  his  grave,  but  there  is  a  peculiar  cru- 
elty in  the  case  of  Christ-church  Hospital. 

FIRES. 

We  do  not  believe,  in  the  matter  of  fires,  that  one  half  the 
number  occur  in  London,  in  any  given  year,  that  occur  in 
New  York,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  buildings  in  both 
towns.  During  two  years  in  London  we  witnessed  only  two 
fires — one  an  extensive  one,  and  the  other  only  a  single  build- 
ing. Nor  saw  we  any  alarms  of  fire,  which  are  such  a  daily 
occurrence  in  our  own  towns,  though  some  of  course  occurred. 
There  are  no  such  fire-companies  in  London  as  exist  in  Amer- 
ica. There  are  no  organizations  like  those  of  Philadelphia, 
New  York  and  Boston,  and  yet  fewer  buildings  are  consumed 
in  the  course  of  a  year  in  proportion  to  the  whole  number, 
than  are  consumed  in  Philadelphia,  New  York  or  Boston. 
The  city  government,  we  believe,  has  not  anything  to  do  with 
fire-engines,  companies,  or  fires — nothing  whatever.  The 
Insurance  Companies  take  care  of  the  city  or  town,  and  every- 
body feels  that  it  is  their  business,  and  they  prefer  to  attcMid 
to  tbeir  own  business,  rather  than  leave  it  in  the  hands  of  in- 
dependent companies.  But,  as  some  might  at  first  imagine, 
they  do  not  confine  themselves  to  the  houses  which  they  in- 
sure, but  exert  themselves  as  heartily  in  extinguishing  the  fire 
in  an  uninsured  building  as  in  one  msured.  The  reason, 
which  as  a  matter  of  course  is  a  selfish  oiiC,  is  obvious  enough 
— a  house  uninsured,  if  left  to  itself,  would  soon  set  on  fire  a 
half-dozen  insured  houses,  and  the  result  would  be  a  great 
loss  to  the  Insurance  Companies. 

Several  fire-companies  unite  and  provide  disciplined  bands 
of  firemen,  who  act  as  leaders,  for  the  crowd  which  alwayf 


48  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

gathers  to  see  a  fire,  are  made  to  assist.  These  bands  have 
their  rendezvous  at  convenient  places,  and  are  always  ready 
for  any  calamity.  One  of  these  spots  is  a  singular  scene.  At 
all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  you  will  find  several  splendid 
tire-engines,  well  mounted  upon  strong  cars,  to  which  are  at- 
[ ached  two  or  four  pov/erful  horses.  The  gates  are  always 
open,  the  horses  harnessed,  and  the  lines  in  the  hands  of  a 
driver.  Besides  the  driver,  there  are  to  each  team  several 
firemen,  dressed  and  ready  for  action,  and  there  they  stand, 
ready  in  a  second's  notice  to  fly  to  the  scene  of  conflagration. 
A  large  number  of  engines  and  horses  are  on  hand  for  use, 
and  several  are  constantly  harnessed  and  manned  for  service. 
There  are  several  depots  scattered  over  the  metropolis  from 
which  the  engines  start.  The  costume  of  the  firemen  is  fine, 
the  horses  are  always  spirited,  and  the  sight  v/hen  they  are  in 
motion,  is  one  of  life  and  spirit. 

To  insure  the  quick  transmission  of  news  of  fires  to  head- 
quarters, the  policeman  who  on  observing  a  fire,  first  gives 
notice  at  an  engine-station,  receives  a  reward  amounting  to 
about  $2.50,  and  still  another  reward  is  given  to  the  engine 
which  first  appears  on  the  ground. 

Now  suppose  that  news  reaches  an  engine-station  of  a  fire  ; 
instantly  the  word  of  advance  is  given  to  the  horses,  and  the 
car  flies  with  the  speed  of  the  wind  over  the  stony  streets. 
Everybody  by  law  must  get  out  of  its  way,  and  give  it  a  clear 
ath,  for  it  is  flying  on  an  errand  of  mercy — to  save  life  and 
properly.  The  sight  of  one  of  these  cars  thundering  over  the 
pavement  is  really  grand,  as  the  uniform  of  the  firemen  is 
conspicuous,  the  engines  are  beautiful,  and  the  horses  full  of 
mettle 

Arrived  at  the  scene  of  the  fire,  and  at  once  the  hose  of  the 
engine  is  applied  to  the  street-plug — for  the  water-companiea 
only  obtain  charters  on  condition  of  giving  all  the  Avatei 
which  is  needed  for  fires,  free  of  cost.     A  suitable  band  of 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  46 

me;n  for  working  the  engines  is  soon  gathered  from  the  crowd, 
by  offering  twenty-four  cents  for  the  first  hour,  twelve  for  the 
next,  and  so  on,  besides  a  feast  of  bread  and  cheese  and  ale, 
to  wind  off  with.  Twenty  to  thirty  men  are  needed  to  work 
each  engine,  but  a  iire  never  yet  occurred  in  London  where 
there  was  a  lack  of  men  for  hire  on  these  terms.  The  trained 
firemen  attend  to  all  the  dangerous  parts  of  the  service,  and 
the  common  laborers  merely  work  the  engines.  The  brigade- 
men,  as  they  are  called,  wear  a  compact  dress,  with  a  stiff 
leathern  helmet  to  protect  the  head,  and  often  make  coura- 
geous and  dangerous  attacks  upon  the  devouring  element. 
If  it  is  necessary  to  enter  a  room  full  of  smoke  and  flames,  a 
fireman  with  a  smoke-proof  dress  enters  at  once  to  the  rescue 
of  the  perilled  object.  The  work  goes  on  coolly,  but  with 
wonderful  dispatch,  and  when  all  is  over,  all  parties  who 
have  worked  adjourn  to  the  nearest  public-house  to  partake 
of  the  beforehand-bargain ed-for  bread  and  cheese  and  ale. 

There  are  in  London  forty  or  fifty  engines  managed  by  the 
Fire  Brigade,  and  besides  these  there  are  two  which  are  al- 
ways floating  on  the  Thames,  which  require  a  hundred  men 
each  to  be  worked  effectively,  and  when  in  full  operation, 
pour  forth  a  volume  of  two  tons  of  water,  each,  per  minute  I 

The  Fire  Brigade  belongs  to  some  eighteen  or  twenty  In- 
surance Companies,  and  has  fifteen  or  sixteen  stations.  There 
are  a  Superintendent  and  Captains,  and  the  men  are  promoted 
according  to  their  energy  and  trustworthiness.  We  need  not 
add  that  they  are  paid  well,  and  only  those  employed  who 
are  stout,  strong,  and  full  of  expertness.  Here  is  one  of  the 
great  advantages  they  have  over  the  members  of  fire-com- 
panies in  American  towns  who  do  not  make  it  their  business. 
They  aie  not  generally  persons  of  extraordinary  strength,  and 
can  never  be  so  skilful  as  men  who  make  the  putting  out  of 
fires  a  profession. 

The  whole  cost  of  the  establishment  is  not  great,  and  the 
"  4 


50  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

Insurance  Connpanies  can  well  afibrd  to  pay  large  sums  ratheJ 
than  dispense  with  their  energy  and  skill.  The  men  are  as 
ompletely  under  the  control  of  officers  as  are  soldiers,  and 
A^hen  one  is  commanded  lo  undertake  anything,  if  it  be  a 
work  which  is  full  of  the  most  frightful  danger,  he  no  more 
thinks  of  flinching  than  the  soldier  on  the  battle-field. 

Centuries  ago  the  business  of  preventing  and  extinguishing 
fires  devolved  wholly  upon  the  municipal  government.  The 
town  was  divided  into  four  groat  quarters  by  the  Corporation, 
immediately  after  the  great  fire,  of  which  the  Fire  Monument 
is  commemorative,  and  the  regulations  which  were  then  is- 
sued for  the  safety  of  London  are  still  preserved  among  the 
archives  of  the  city.  We  will  copy  one  or  two,  which  will 
awaken  a  smile  on  account  of  the  quaintness  of  their  phrase- 
ology : 

"  Item.  That  every  of  the  said  quarters  shall  be  furnished 
and  provided,  at  or  before  the  feast  of  our  Lord  God  next  en- 
suing, of  eight  hundred  leathern  buckets,  fifty  ladders,  viz., 
ten  forty-two  foot  long,  ten  sixteen  foot  long,  and  ten  twelve 
foot  long  ;  as  also  of  so  many  hand-squii'ts  of  brass  as  mil 
ftirnish  two  for  every  parish,  four  and  twenty  pick-axe  sledges 
and  forty  shod-shovels." 

Another  item  obliged  every  Alderman  who  had  passed  th« 
office  of  shrievality  to  provide  "  four  and  twenty  buckets 
and  one  hand-squirt  of  brass,"  and  all  those  who  had  be«» 
sheriffs  to  provide  "  twelve  buckets  and  one  hand-squirt  U 
brass  1" 

The  amount  of  property  insured  in  England  against  fire  is 
astonishingly  great.  A  tax  laid  upon  all  insurance-paper 
proves  that  more  than  five  hundred  millions  pounds'  worth  is 
insured  every  year. 

Some  years  since  the  aurora-horealis  so  completely  deceived 
the  London  Fire  Brigade,  that  from  eleven  o'clock  at  night 
tiU  six  in  the  morning,  twelve  engines  with  seventy-five  me* 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  61 

were  tearing  about,  all  over  the   streets,  in   search  of  what 
they  thought  must  be  a  fire. 

The  Humane  Society  keeps  in  several  streets  a  mechanical 
contrivance  by  which,  in  case  of  fire  at  night,  persons  may 
escape  from  the  bed-chambers  in  high  stories  with  safety  to 
the  pavement  below.  In  some  instances  this  contrivance  is 
simply  a  ladder  on  wheels,  so  that  it  may  easily  be  moved 
about  ;  in  other  cases  it  consists  of  a  movable  chair,  which 
moves  up  and  down  a  ladder-frame.  A  person  throws  him- 
self into  the  chair  from  his  window,  and  his  weight  causes  it 
to  sink  slowly  and  safely  to  the  ground.  Often  in  night- 
walks  we  have  noticed  these  simple  contrivances  moving 
about  from  street  to  street,  but  do  not  know  how  often  they 
are  successful  in  rescuing  life  from  destruction  by  fire. 

MADAME   TASSAUD'S. 

One  of  the  "  lions"  of  London  is  Madame  Tassaud's  Exhi- 
bition of  Wax  Work  in  Baker-street.  It  is  both  brilliant  and 
fashionable,  and  is  constantly  crowded.  Its  fame  is  world- 
wide, but  no  person  who  has  not  visited  it  with  his  own  eyes, 
can  gain  any  adequate  conception  of  its  completeness,  bril 
liancy  and  startlingly  natural  appearance.  It  is  situated  in 
the  West  End,  and  was  originated  by  Madame  Tassaud,  at 
an  expense  of  more  than  $300,000.  Her  personal  history  is 
one  of  singular  interest.  She  was  born  at  Berne  in  Switzer- 
hnd,  in  the  year  1760,  about  two  months  after  the  death  of 
her  father,  and  was  adopted  by  her  uncle  M.  Curtius,  then  a 
distinguished  wax-modeller  in  Paris.  She  was  singularly 
fortunate  in  making  the  friendship  of  such  men  as  Lafayette» 
Mirabeau,  Voltaire,  and  other  celebrated  men  of  that  age.  In 
1782  she  was  employed  in  the  art  of  modelling  by  the  Prin- 
cess Elizabeth,  sister  of  Louis  XVL,  and  the  palace  at  Ver- 
sailles was  her  home. 


52  ■^HAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

During  the  awfui  reign  of  terror  her  patrons  were  mar 
derea  around  her,  and  she,  herself,  ran  great  risks,  and  wag 
exposed  to  the  most  imminent  perils.  Her  genius  was  her 
safeguard,  for  the  State  could  not  spare  her  services,  and  the 
uthorities  made  her  State  Modeller.  She  was  obliged  to 
ake  casts  of  many  of  the  heads  of  her  best  friends,  as  well  as 
bitterest  enemies. 

In  1833  she  opened  in  London  her  present  unrivalled  ex- 
ibition  of  wax-work,  which  has  ever  since  constantly  been 
receiving  accessions.  No  celebrated  character  is  unrepre- 
sented there,  and  although  she  has  expended  nearly  a  half 
million,  yet  the  returns  are  enormous.  She  and  her  sons  (she 
has  died  since  our  first  visit  to  the  place),  are  immensely  rich, 
and  are  every  day  accumulating  more. 

The  evening  is  the  time  .to  see  the  gallery  in  its  glory,  for 
then  its  myriads  of  gorgeous  gas-lights  and  chandeliers  present 
an  imposing  appearance.  The  first  evening  on  which  we 
visited  it,  Madame  Tassaud  was  aliv  and  in  good  health,  for 
one  so  much  advanced  in  years.  We  entered  the  saloon  in 
Baker-street  through  a  beautiful  hall  richly  adorned  with 
antique  casts  and  modern  sculptures,  passed  up  a  flight  of 
stairs  magnificent  with  arabesques,  artificial  flowers  and  large 
mirrors,  and  halted  at  the  entrance-door  to  deposit  our  fee  of 
one  shilling  into  the  hands  of  the  veritable  Madame  Tassaud 
herself,  who  sat  in  an  arm-chair  by  the  entrance,  as  motion- 
less as  one  of  her  own  wax- figures.  It  was  well  worth  the 
shilling  to  see  her. 

The  sight  from  where  we  stood  was  gorgeous  beyond  de« 
scription.  Five  hundred  flames  of  light  streamed  forth  into 
every  nook  and  recess  of  the  vast  apartment,  making  an  in- 
tense light,  which  was  reflected  and  re-reflected  a  thousand 
times  by  a  perfect  wall  of  mirrors.  The  room  is  one  hundred 
feet  in  length,  and  fifty  in  breadth,  and  its  walls  are  panelled 
with  plated  glass,  and  decorated  with  draperies  and  gilt  orna^ 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS,  53 

ments  in  the  Louis  Q^uatorze  style.  Two  large  aisles  run 
through  the  apartment  ;  upon  the  four  sides  of  the  room  are 
ranged  all  the  single  figures  and  small  groups,  while  the  large 
and  complicated  ones  have  a  central  position. 

From  the  entrance  door,  where  we  stood,  the  view  was 
better  than  any  other  for  gazing  upon  the  whole  group,  of 
groups.  The  blazing  light,  the  figures,  and  the  mass  of  via- 
tors, from  the  height  of  fashionable  circles  down  to  the  poor- 
est of  the  middle-classes,  combined  to  make  it  a  scene  of 
gaiety  and  excitement.  It  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  ushered 
into  the  presence  of  the  great  dead,  for  the  figures  were 
natural  as  life.  Washington  and.  Napoleon,  Danton  and 
Robespierre  were  all  around  us,  and  Paganini  with  his  violin, 
and  sweet,  artless  Jenny  Lind,  without  her  voice.  Splendid 
ottomans  and  sofas  were  ranged  along  the  aisles,  at  convenient 
distances  for  the  accommodation  of  the  visitors,  and  really  it 
was  difficult  always  to  distinguish  the  \«^ax  from  the  live 
flesh  and  blood  I 

Over  the  entrance  there  was  a  gallery  filled  with  musi- 
cians, who  discoursed  sweet  and  ancient  airs,  which  added  to 
the  enchantment  of  the  scene.  As  we  passed  down  one  ©f 
the  aisles  a  figure,  entitled  "  The  Sleeping  Beauty,"  arrest^ 
our  attention  ;  a  .young  girl,  beautiful  as  a  poet's  vision, 
"lying  down  to  pleasant  dreams,"  her  gentle  breast  heaving 
to  and  fro  like  life — yet  it  was  only  wax.  There  was  Jenny 
Lind,  pure  and  artless  Jenny,  with  smiles  upon  her  face,  a'.id 
her  lips  looking  so  much  like  singing,  with  a  song  behind 
them  ready  to  burst  forth,  that  we  involuntarily  hushed  oui 
steps  as  if  to  hear!  There  was  Kean  in  one  of  his  finest 
characters,  Macready,  Ellen  Tree  (now  Mrs.  Kean),  and  ail 
the  celebrated  actors  and  actresses  in  the  world. 

There  was  Paganini,  living,  breathing — with  his  slight 
fingers  grasping  the  veritable  violin  upon  which  he  used  to 
play      His  dark,  brilliant,  enthusiastic  features  sent  a  thrill 


54  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

through  us  while  we  gazed  at  him,  and  it  seemed  as  if  we 
should  hear  those  wondrous  fingers  once  more  startle  the 
world  with  their  magical  performances  upon  the  old  violin. 
In  close  proximity  stood  Napoleon.  He  had  on  the  same  gray 
overcoat  which  he  wore  at  Austerlitz  and  Waterloo.  His 
Emiling  face  looked  down  upon  us  disdainfully,  and  his  hand 
was  upon  his  sword.  An  involuntary  martial- thrill  ran 
through  us  as  we  gazed  at  his  dark,  small  form,  and  thought 
of  his  victories.  The  next  moment  our  eyes  fell  upon  the 
statue  of  one  so  noble  and  even  godlike  that  the  tears  started 
to  our  eyes  as  we  exclaimed,  "  Look  I  look  !  for  there  is  Wash- 
ington !"  With  his  mild  eyes  and  gray  hair,  his  noble  stal- 
wart form,  he  stood  forth  in  remarkable  contrast  with  the 
little,  swarthy,  brilliant  Napoleon.  The  one  great  and  good, 
and  with  the  thanks  of  millions  encircling  his  republican 
brow  ; — the  other  great,  but  intensely  selfish  and  intensely 
devilish,  and  with  the  curses  of  the  millions  he  crushed  be- 
neath his  iron  heel  screeching  in  his  ears  like  Pandemonium. 

"  Oliver  P.,"  Carlisle's  God,  stood  facing  the  gentle-eyed 
Charles,  whom  he  executed  ;  and  eloquent  Edmund  Burke 
confronted  the  splendid  but  rapacious  Hastings. 

There  was  William  Cobbett  in  his  plain  farmer's  dress, 
and  by  some  unseen  agency  he  kept  bowing  politely  to  the 
visitors.  Wax  figures  were  so  placed  on  the  borders  of  the 
aisle,  some  prominent  and  others  receding,  that  it  was  often 
cifficult  to  distinguish  the  wax  from  the  live  figures.  A 
couple  of  our  friends  visiting  the  Gallery  one  evening,  one  of 
them  trod  upon  a  gentleman's  foot,  and  of  course  begged  his 
pardon.  His  companion  laughed,  saying,  "  You  are  begging 
pardon  from  a  wax-figure  !" 

Not  long  after,  his  companion  who  had  laughed  so  heartily 
over  his  blunder,  touched  him,  saying,  "  Look  at  this  figure 
— is  it  not  beautiful  ?*'     The  "  figure,''  with  a  blush  and 


PLACES    AKD    SIGHTS.  55 

smile,  turned  away  ;  young  men  have  been  known  to  make 
love  to  such  "  figures  I" 

At  the  western  part  of  the  room  there  was  the  "  golden 
chamber,"  a  small  apartment  for  the  exhibition  of  George  IV. 
and  his  coronation  and  state  robes.  Madame  Tassaud  pur- 
chased them  at  a  cost  of  $90,000.  Glueen  Elizabeth  was 
here,  all  bedizened  with  jeM^els,  and  close  at  her  side  Clueen 
Mary  of  Scotland — her  victim — arrayed  in  a  plain  mourning 
uit. 

There  was  Mirabeau,  with  his  great  and  splendid  forehead  ; 
there  were  Robespierre  and  Danton,  the  Girondists.  Milton, 
and  Shakspeare,  and  Spenser,  and  the  "  wondrous  boy,  Chat- 
terton,"  had  each  their  niche  of  honor.  One  of  the  finest  of 
the  large  groups  was  that  of  the  royal  family,  Albert  and 
Victoria,  and  their  host  of  princes  and  princesses,  all  modelled 
to  the  life. 

There  was  one  room  called  "  The  Room  of  Horrors,"  which 
was  too  horrible  to  gaze  at.  There  were  the  heads  of  some 
of  the  victims  of  the  French  Revolution,  ail  bloody  and 
ghastly.  The  sight  was  enough  to  chill  one's  blood,  and 
we  came  away  from  the  apartment  with  a  keen  sense  of 
relief. 

The  exhibition  as  a  whole,  is  probably  the  best  in  the 
world,  and  will  well  pay  the  stranger  for  an  evening's  visit. 
There  is  to  us  a  pleasure  in  walking  among  the  great  of 
former  ages  in  this  manner,  after  we  have  become  conversant 
with  their  lives  through  history.  There  is  a  pleasure  in 
looking  upon  Napoleon's  old  gray  coat,  and  Paganini's  violin, 
and  seeing,  though  but  in  wax,  how  they  looked  dressed  like 
other  men,  instead  of  in  marble,  or  steel  engravings,  or  upon 


66  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


GUTTA  PERCHA  FACTORY. 

We  made  a  visit  one  day  to  the  "  Gutta  Percba  Company*s 
Works,"  and  as  they  are  the  only  company  in  the  United 
Kingdom  holding  the  original  patent,  and  first  imported  gutta 
percha  from  "  over  the  seas,"  and  as  a  necessary  consequence 
are  at  the  head  of  the  world  in  their  manufactures,  we  will 
give  a  hasty  sketch  of  what  we  saw  on  our  visit.  The  man- 
ufactory is  situated  in  the  northern  part  of  London,  near  a 
canal  which  runs  into  the  interior  of  the  country,  and  is  large 
and  commodious. 

We  were  introduced  to  the  manager,  who  is  a  man  of  po- 
liteness and  urbanity  (qualities  not  too  common  in  the  business 
life  of  London),  and  sat  down  in  his  office  for  a  few  moments 
while  he  gave  out  orders  for  various  and  distant  departments 
of  the  large  manufactory  without  leaving  his  desk,  by  simply 
applying  his  lips  to  different  month-pieces  close  at  hand,  the 
sound  being  carried  through  gutta  percha  tubes  to  the  far- 
thest corner  of  the  vast  building. 

In  a  few  minutes,  we  repaired  to  the  cutting  department. 
Here  the  lumps  of  gutta  percha  are  sliced  into  thiit  pieces  by 
revolving  knives,  which  cut  six  hundred  slices  per  minute, 
propelled  by  steam.  The  gutta  percha  as  it  is  imported  from 
India  is  not  fit  for  use — the  collectors  being  careless — and  it 
must  undergo  a  process  of  purification  here.  The  slices,  when 
they  drop  from  the  revolving  knives,  are  thin,  and  have  the 
appearance  of  old  leather.  The  manager  next  took  us  to  the 
boiling  and  kneading-room.  The  slices  are  first  put  into 
enormous  iron  boilers,  and  boiled  till  of  the  consistency  of 
tough  dough,  when  they  are  thrown  into  a  machine  Vv^ith 
rows  of  teeth,  revolving  eight  hundred  times  per  minute,  and 
which  tear  the  masses  of  gutta  percha  into  infinitesimal 
shreds      The  shreds  are  put  into  cold  water,  the  gutta  percha 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  57 

pure  and  unalloyed  rising  to  the  surface,  while  the  dirt  and 
refuse  matter  sinks  to  the  hottom.  It  is  then  skimmed  off, 
and  put  into  lumps,  to  which  a  heat  of  200  degrees  is  applied, 
and  in  this  state  the  lumps,  while  plastic,  are  put  into  steam 
kneading-machines,  to  work  out  all  the  air  and  water  that 
may  exist  in  the  pores  of  the  substance.  This  process  is  a 
very  curious  and  interesting  one.  After  the  gutta  perch  a 
romes  from  the  kneading-machine,  it  is  by  machinery  moulded 
into  the  thickness  of  common  leather,  and  is  ready  for  use, 
or  perhaps  it  is  left  in  lumps,  as  occasion  may  require. 

We  next  went  into  the  department  where  soles  are  made 
for  boots  and  shoes.  The  gutta  percha  was  in  a  plastic  state, 
and  while  thus  the  soles  are  cut  and  shaped.  The  shoema,ker, 
or  mender,  by  applying  enough  heat,  can  shape  the  sole  of 
the  shoe,  or  any  one  can  mend  his  own  boots  with  slight 
trouble,  by  merely  applying  one  side  of  the  sole  to  a  hot  fire, 
"and  at  once  placing  it  to  the  bottom  of  the  boot — Avhen  cold, 
it  adheres  better  than  if  it  had  been  pegged  on,  and  will  not 
only  outwear  leather,  but  will  entirely  keep  out  the  wet. 
There  were  many  boys  in  this  department,  and  we  ascertained 
that  their  wages  were  about  one  dollar  and  a  quarter,  or  a 
half,  per  week — they,  of  course,  boarding  and  lodging  them- 
selves. / 

We  visited  the  tubing  department,  and  saw  the  process  of 

manufacturing  gutta  percha  tubes.     A  very  long  one   was 

being  tried  ;  it  was  for  a  mine,  down  in  the  country  ;  the 

mouth-piece  was  to  be  above  ground,  from  which  orders  could 

be  given  to  workmen  in  the  vaults  below      It  was  more  than 

lour  hundred  feet  in  length,  and  was  well  constructed.      Here, 

too,  pumps  were  made,  pipes  for  fire-engines,  and  all  manner 

of  tubes.     Here  we  saw  the  identical  electrical  wire,  covered 

w^ith    gutta    percha,   which    first    connected   England  with 

France — the  true  chain  of  brotherhood.     The  manager  gave 

us  a  piece,  as  a  memento  of  the  great  feat  of  connecting  the 
c* 


58  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

English  and  French  shores,  though  twenty  miles  of  sea  intei 
venes  between  them. 

Next  we  visited  the  most  interesting  department  of  ail- 
that  where  the  nicer  and  more  delicate  articles  are  con- 
structed. Here  we  first  saw  a  beautiful  frame,  with  the  bor- 
ders exhibiting  every  appearance  of  the  finest  carving,  and 
with  the  inner  portions  exquisitely  gilded.  We  were  sur- 
prised that  plain  gutta  percha  could  thus  be  made  to  resem- 
ble the  choicest  carved  or  gilded  oak,  rosewood,  or  mahogany. 
And  not  with  the  chisel,  but  merely  by  pressing  the  ungainly 
lumps  into  a  mould,  so  that  once  a  mould  constructed,  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  beautiful  frames  are  turned  out  with 
out  the  usual  expense  of  artist-work.  And  they  have  a  great 
advantage  over  wood  in  the  fact  that  they  never  can  be 
broken  ;  dash  them  to  the  ground  with  all  your  strength,  and 
it  will  not  harm  them.  The  manager  took  some  delicate- 
looking  flower-vases  and  threw  them  to  the  floor  with  violence  ; 
they  bounded  back  into  the  air,  but  were  not  shivered.  Here, 
too,  we  saw  beautiful  works  of  art — the  head  of  a  deer,  with 
the  ears  falling,  like  real  ears,  the  horns  were  slender  and  nat- 
ural, but  could  not  be  broken.  Impressions  of  faces  and  busts 
hung  about  the  walls  of  the  room,  or  were  issuing  from  the 
hands  of  ingenious  workmen.  Some  of  the  faces  were  those 
of  distinguished  Americans.  "We  also  saw  some  very  clever 
stereotyping  that  had  been  done  with  gutta  percha.  There 
was  a  beautiful  gutta  percha  life-boat,  which  though  full  of 
water,  and  without  the  usual  air-huoys,  will  not  sink,  gutta 
percha  is  so  much  the  lighter  than  water. 

There  were  sou'- wester  hats  for  sailors — capital  things.^  as 
they  are  impervious  to  water  and  the  action  of  salt.  With 
leather  it  is  otherwise,  for  water  saturates  it,  and  salt  is  its 
deadliest  enemy.  There  was  lining  for  bonnets,  soft  and 
flexible  as  silk,  yet  made  of  gutta  percha.  What  surprised 
us  more  was  an  array  of  liquid  gutta  percha  in  bottles,  to 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  69 

cure  wounds  and  cuts  and  chilblains !  There  were  stetho- 
scopes, and  battery-cells,  and  insulating-stools,  speaking-trum- 
pets, tiller-ropes,  &c.  &c. 

Yet  the  first  sample  of  gutta  percha  which  ever  saw  Eng- 
land was  sent  by  Dr.  Montgomerie,  in  1843.  The  tree  of 
which  it  is  the  sap,  was  discovered  by  an  Englishman  in 
the  forests  of  Singapore.  The  tree  bears  a  much-esteemed 
fruit,  the  timber  is  good,  a  kind  of  ardent  spirits  is  made 
from  it,  a  medicine,  and  the  flowers  are  also  used  for  food. 
The  first  year  of  the  discovery  only  two  hundred  weight  were 
imported  into  England,  while  last  year  over  30,000  cwt. 
were  entered  at  the  docks. 

SAINT   KATHARINE   DOCKS, 

We  received  an  invitation  one  morning  from  a  gentleman 
3onnected  with  one  of  the  largest  mercantile  houses  in  Lon- 
don, to  visit  with  him  Saint  Katharine  Docks  and  Vaults, 
We  were  never  more  surprised  in  our  life — we  had  formed 
no  adequate  idea  of  the  extent  of  the  vaults  and  docks — 
of  the  immense  quantities  of  wines  and  merchandise  lying 
in  the  docks.  It  will  be  •  remembered  that  this  is  only  one 
of  several  docks,  the  London  and  West  India  docks  being 
much  larger. 

We  started  out  from  our  home  about  nine  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  found  the  celebrated  Aldgate  Pump  in  our  way, 
and  had  an  exceedingly  fine  view  of  the  Tower,  and  a  party 
of  soldiers  who  were  being  drilled  inside  the  walls. 

Turning  in  at  a  little  gate  which  was  guarded  by  officers 
we  entered  the  docks,  and  then  passed  into  a  little  room, 
where  our  friend  piocured  orders  for  us  to  descend  into  the 
vaults.  We  first  visited  the  wine-vaults,  A  and  B,  as  they 
are  designated.  We  descended  several  stone  steps  into  what 
looked  like  a  dark  cellar,  and  here  in  a   little  outer-room 


30  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LOIS'DON, 

lamps  attached  to  long  sticks  were  given  to  each  of  U3,  and 
a  conductor  accompanied  ns  over  the  vaults.  The  outside 
walk  of  one  of  the  vaults  is  a  mile  in  length,  and  it  rnns  un- 
derneath a  city  of  houses  and  streets.  We  could  hear  the 
carriages  and  carts  over  our  heads,  dimly  sounding  like  low 
and  distant  thunder.  The  wine-casks  v/ere  piled  one  above 
another  to  the  wall  overhead,  and  little  aisles  were  made 
running  away  across  the  vaults,  so  that  they  could  he  easily 
trcxversed.  A  kind  of  sawdust  filled  up  the  walks,  &o  that 
the  path  was  soft  to  the  feet. 

The  fragrance  of  the  place  was  really  delicious — the  air 
seemed  loaded  with  a  scent  of  grapes.  Our  friend  remarked 
that  the  firm  he  was  connected  with  had  at  that  time  in 
these  vaults  $250,000  worth  of  wines — Oporto,  Sherry,  and 
Madeira,  He  ordered  the  conductor  to  tap  several  casks  to 
ghov/  the  quality  of  the  wine,  as  is  the  custom  when  trying 
to  sell  to  customera.  This  is  the  way  a  majority  of  the  w'mes 
are  sold.  As  soon  as  they  are  imported  the  merchant  stores 
them  in  the  vaults,  and  sells  them  there  :  we  allude  to  the 
wholesale  dealers,  for  in  England  a  retail  dealer  in  anything 
is  not  called  a  merchant.  This  gives  rise  to  a  great  practice 
of  giving  orders  to  taste  wine  in  the  docks.  Many  a  party 
of  gay  persons  gets  orders  without  the  slightest  intention  of 
purchasing  any  wines.  And  many  ladies  of  standing  visi* 
the  vaults,  and,  however  strange  it  may  appear  to  Americans, 
yet  it  is  true  that  often  ladies  of  wealth  and  respectability 
come  av/ay  from  them  tipsy.  The  conductor  assured  us 
that  it  ivas  a  co'mmon  thing  for  ladies  to  leave  the  vaults  in 
a  state  of  inebriation,  and  that  they  must  be  from  the  re- 
spectable circles  of  society  or  they  never  could  have  secured 
the  written  orders  from  the  importing  merchants.  An  Amer- 
ican Captain,  who  is  a  friend  of  ours,  was  once  the  witness 
in  his  own  cabin  of  the  drunken  pranks  of  a  party  of  ladies 
and    gentlemen,   v/ho    having   made  a   tour  of   the  vaults, 


PLACES    AND    SIGHTS.  61 

finished  the  visit  b)^  coming  on  board  his  ship.  They  came 
to  the  docks  in  their  fine  carnages,  but  were  so  inebriated  in 
his  cabin,  as  to  conduct  themselves  in  the  most  vulgar  manner 

An  immense  quantity  of  wine  is  lost  by  leakage  and  drink- 
age  every  year  from  the  vaults,  as  every  one  would  imagine 
who  has  seen  the  casks  tapped  for  tasters.  We  noticed  some 
of  the  different  marks  on  the  casks  of  our  friend's  port  wine — - 
guch  as  "  Old  Duke,"  "  Vintage  1834,"  "Particular,"  "Ex- 
tra Particular,"  &c.  It  seems  to  us  that  the  effect  of  tasting 
wines  upon  ladies  who  visit  the  vaults,  was  not  such  gene- 
rally as  to  make  them  "particular,"  much  less  "  extra  particu- 
lar," in  their  conduct  afterward. 

After  visiting  two  vaults  we  went  to  the  engine-works, 
which  are  used  to  pump  water  into  the  docks  at  low  water. 
The  M^orks  are  immense  in  size  and  power — the  fly-wheels 
are  225  feet  in  diameter,  and  weigh  each  ten  tons.  The  cy- 
linder is  so  large  that  a  man  can  stand  up  straight  inside  of 
it.  By  this  machine  one  hundred  tons  of  water  jper  minute 
can  be  pump-^d  into  the  docks ;  or  35,000  gallons. 

The  bottlmg  department  is  where  the  wine  is  put  in  bottles 
for  those  who  wish  to  purchase  it  so,  rather  than  in  casks. 

The  mixing  department  is  where  liquors  of  different  strengths 
are  mixed — brandies  for  instance — the  result  being  an  article 
of  different  quality  and  a  certain  measured  strength.^ 

We  saw  in  the  tobacco  warehouses  enormous  quantities  of 
the  yellow  weed.  The  overseer  remarked,  that  the  day  be- 
fore, a  manufacturer  in  Fleet-street  paid  $15,000  in  dutiea 
on  tobacco  for  cigars.  It  is  a  difficult  thing  to  get  a  really 
good  cigar  in  London — those  that  are  really  foreign,  and  of 
the  first  quality,  sell  high.  We  were  much  pleased  with  the 
indigo  warehouses,  and  especially  with  the  one  devoted  to  dye 
gnms,  and  so  forth.  The  overseer  gave  us  a  bit  of  incense- 
gum,  used  mostly  in  cathedrals,  and  which  sells  as  high  aa 
$250  the  pound.     We  saw  large  quantities  of  guinea-grains, 


62  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

the  main  use  of  which  is  to  make  strong  gin  !  Almost  all 
gin  is  drugged  with  it,  and  it  must  be  a  consolation  to  the 
gin-drinker  to  know  that  guinea-grains  and  water  is  in  reality 
the  stuff  of  w^iich  his  "gin"  is^made.  So  in  the  matter  of 
"  port  wine,"  the  drinker  may  feel  glad  to  know  that  faj 
more  "port"  is  drank  every  year  in  England,  than  is  annu 
ally  made  at  Oporto  I  Logwood  is  a  fine  ingredient,  it  is  said 
in  manufacturing  home-made  "  port" — grapes  are  scaroel* 
necsssary. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

PICTURES   OF   MEN. 

GEORGE    CRUIKSHANK. 

There  are  few  people  in  America  who  have  not  heard  of 
that  erratic  jet  extraordinary  genius,  George  Cruikshank. 
It  is  many  years  since  he  struck  out  in  a  new  path,  and  the 
result  is  that  he  has  won  for  himself  a  brilliant  fame.  There 
have  been  a  thousand  followers  at  his  heels,  and  some  of 
them  have  attained  great  eminence  as  artists,  though  not  one 
of  all  of  them  has  equalled  the  master.  He  is  without  any 
doubt  the  drollest,  most  intensely  comical,  of  all  artists,  and 
still  is  sometimes  very  beautiful  and  pathetic. 

In  a  single  group  of  his,  you  will  find  abundant  cause  for 
laughter  and  tears.  While  he  shakes  your  sides  with  laugh- 
ter at  some  humorous  conception,  he  makes  you  weep  over 
some  young  face  that  has  such  a  gentle,  heart-broken  sorrow 
upon  it,  that  you  cannot  help  it.  Every  face  and  figure  in 
his  sketches  is  alive  and  endowed  with  the  faculties  of  life. 
Misery  has  her  own  sad  features  ;  Fun  and  Humor  are  full 
of  their  pranks  ;  while  Vice  looks  more  hideous  than  Death, 

Mr.  Cruikshank  is  one  of  the  most  popular  men  and  artists 
in  England,  and  everywhere  he  goes  he  is  sure  to  be  greeted 
with  shouts  and  cheering.  One  reason  for  this  is,  that  he  is 
known  to  be  a  real  friend  to  the  people.  A  great  many  ar- 
tists have  no  opmions  whatever,  upon  any  subject  disconnected 


C4  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

with  their  art.  But  George  Cruikshank  is  a  man  as  well  as 
artist. 

A  few  years  since  he  joined  the  friends  of  Temperance,  and 
it  is  almost  impossible  in  America  to  appreciate  the  sacrifice 
consequent  upon  such  an  act  in  England.  For  a  distinguished 
person  in  good  society  in  London  to  swear  off  from  wine,  is 
an  act  which  requires  a  great  deal  of  moral  courage,  though 
there  be  an  entire  absence  of  a  liking  for  the  beverage.  You 
meet  it  everywhere  at  rich  men's  tables,  and  are  expected,  as 
a  matter  of  course,  to  drink  with  the  ladies. 

But  Cruikshank  signed  the  pledge,  and  kept  it  strictly.  The 
fact  was  that  he  was  in  danger  of  ruin,  and  the  pledge  wa.s 
his  salvation.  Men  of  genius  always  are,  when  the  wine-cup 
is  fashionable,  above  all  other  men.  The  love  of  excitement 
in  such  is  a  powerful  passion,  and  "  the  ruby  wine"  is  often 
their  deadliest  bane.  It  would  be  needless  to  point  out  in- 
stances where  the  loftiest  have  fallen.  Douglas  Jerrold,  the 
witty,  yet  sometimes  deeply  pathetic  writer,  is  making  a  sad 
wreck  of  himself  through  the  extravagant  use  of  intoxicating 
hquors.  Mr.  Cruikshank  often  makes  his  appearance  in  public 
at  temperance  meetings.  He  has  been  at  Exeter  Hall  and 
Drury  Lane.  However,  he  is  not  an  orator,  but  he  is  so  dis- 
tniguished  as  an  artist,  that  his  presence  is  counted  as  a  grea,t 
favor.  A  public  meeting  never  goes  off  in  London  with  eclai 
unless  several  distinguished  men  are  present.  Earls,  Dukes, 
and  Lords,  though  noodles  in  point  of  intellect,  make  an  im- 
jiression  on  the  public  through  their  titles ! 

George  Cruikshank  was  born  in  London,  of  Scotch  parents, 
and  within  the  sound  of  "  Bow  Bells"  we  suppose,  for  he  calls 
himself  a  "  cockney."  His  father  possessed  quite  a  genius  for 
etching,  and  his  oldest  brother  E-obert  was  for  a  time  asso- 
ciated with  him,  his  name  frequently  accompanying  that  of 
George  in  the  illustration  of  various  works  ;  but  the  genius 
of  the  latter  soon  raised  him  above  father  and  brother. 


PICTURES    OF    MEN.  65 

He  commenced  etching  while  quite  j'oung,  and  studied 
snaracters  in  low  life  along  the  banks  of  the  river  Thames. 
He  could  never  have  risen  to  so  high  a  position  as  he  haa 
done,  had  he  not  studied  life  in  London  in  all  its  phases  and 
aspects.  He  is  as  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  etiquette  of 
the  lowest  tap-room  as  the  choices^  drawnig-room.  'Not  a 
character  of  note,  whether  in  low  life  or  high,  has  escaped  his 
eagle  eye  ;  and  the  result  of  this  watchfulness,  this  tendency 
to  observe,  is  apparent  in  all  his  sketches.  It  Vi'as  liis  series 
of  etchings  entitled  "  Mornings  at  Bow-street,"  and  "  Life  in 
London,"  which  first  attracted  the  attention  of  London  and 
England.  Shortly  after  this  he  illustrated  the  political  squibs 
of  the  celebrated  William  Hone,  and  these  added  to  his  fame. 

Mr.  Hone  was  then  a  noted  infidel,  bat  afterwards  under  the 
preaching  of  the  remarkable  Thomas  Binney,  became  a  sin- 
cere Christian, 

We  have  alluded  to  one  of  the  causes  of  Mr.  Cruikshank's 
popularity  as  being  his  friendship  for  the  people.  He  is  rad- 
ical to  the  core,  and  such  is  his  devotion  to  Liberalism,  that 
he  haig  invariably  refused  to  caricature  any  man  who  is  a  true 
friend  of  progress,  or  to  allow  his  talents  to  be  used  in  any 
manner  or  shape,  against  the  cause  of  Progress.  In  this  he  is 
like  another  distinguished  artist,  Kichard  Doyle,  a  Catholic. 
When  the  Anti-Catholic  Agitation  swept  over  England, 
Punch,  the  journal  of  wit  and  humor,  with  which  he  was 
professionally  connected,  came  out  so  decidedly  against  Popery, 
that  the  faithful  Doyle  left  it  to  his  pecimiary  hurt.  Protes- 
tants admired  his  consistency,  while  they  deplored  his  religious 
principles  and  belief. 

The  acknowledged  talent  of  Gruikshank  is  such,  that  he 
has  ten  tim.es  the  employment  offered  him  that  he  can  exe- 
cute, and  sets  his  own  prices.  For  what  once  he  used  to  re- 
ceive five  dollars,  he  now  gets  fifty.  His  sense  of  the  ludi- 
crous is  excessively  keen — -he   has  bo  superior  in  I>ondon  in 

5 


\6  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

that  faculty.  He  cannot  walk  in  the  streets  a  half-mile, 
without  picking  up  some  grotesque  figure,  or  face,  where 
ordinary  men  would  have  seen  nothing  worthy  of  observation. 
A  few  years  ago  he  went  down  to  Manchester,  to  attend  a 
great  Anti-Corn  Law  Meeting,  and  convulsed  the  immense 
audience  with  laughter,  by  rising  in  his  own  odd  way,  and 
telling  them  that  "  he  had  come  to  Manchester,  and  attended 
the  meeting  that  night  in  a  professional  manner,  and  that 
frora  v/hat  he  had  seen,  he  had  no  doubt  that  he  should  be 
v/ell  paid  for  his  trouble  !" 

A  London  writer  remarking  upon  him  says,  that  he  is  the 
only  man  he  knows  who  is  equal  to  the  class  of  under-cabmen 
in  London.  This  class  is  the  most  impudent  and  insulting  of 
any  to  be  found  on  the  face  of  the  earth  ;  but  George  Cruik- 
shank  is  always  ready  for  them.  If  they  bluster  and  scold, 
he  imitates  them  so  exactly  and  thoroughly,  that  they  are 
glad  to  let  him  off  without  cheating  him  out  of  an  extra  six- 
pence, as  they  generally  do  their  customers. 

Mr.  Cruikshank  is  very  eccentric,  and  from  this  fact  many 
people  think  him  cross  and  unmannerly  ;  but  such  is  not  the 
case.  He  has  a  warm  heart  and  a  generous  hand,  but  is  ex- 
tremely odd. 

In  person  he  is  well-made  ;  about  the  middle  height,  and 
has  light-colored  hair.  He  has  a  very  expressive  face — the" 
eye  is  drollery  and  keenness  combined.  He  has  a  pale  coun- 
tenance, handsome  whiskers,  a  good  but  receding  forehead, 
and  a  good  general  figure.  He  always  dresses  well,  very  well 
• — some  say  foppishly,  but  it  is  our  opinion  that  those  who  say 
so  mistake  a  rich  and  flowing  style  of  dress  for  foppishness. 
In  the  main  portions  of  London,  if  a  person  dares  to  patronize 
a  French  tailor,  he  is  at  once  accused  of  foppishness,  while 
those  who  cling  to  the  barbarous  styles  in  fashion  in  London 
are  gentlemen  of  taste  I     A  portion  of  the  aristocracy  are  so 


PICTURES    OF    MEN.  67 

much  in  France,  however,  that  they  imbibe   French  notions 
in  dress,  as  well  as  in  some  more  important  matters. 

The  devotion  of  Mr.  Cruikshank  to  the  cause  of  Tem- 
perance is  noble  and  disinterested.  The  Times  has  deigned 
to  point  its  thunder  at  him  in  a  leading  article,  but  he  has  his 
revenge  in  dissecting  the  Times  on  the  platform  at  Exeter 
Hall,  and  it  certainly  is  not  saying  too  much  (poor  an  orator 
as  the  artist  is),  to  say  that  he  does  not  come  out  of  the  fray 
second  best.  The  friends  of  Temperance  appreciate  his  labors, 
and  respect  his  philanthropy  equally  with  his  genius. 


ALFRED  TENNYSON. 

It  is  a  rare  thing  to  meet  Alfred  Tennyson  in  London 
society.  Since  the  publication  of  his  first  volume  of  poems — 
twenty  years  ago — he  has  led  a  retired  life,  so  much  so,  that 
even  in  literary  circles,  he  has  scarcely  ever  been  seen. 
Possibly  to-night,  you  may  find  him  over  a  meerschaum  at  the 
Howitt's,  but  where  he  will  be  on  the  morrow  a  mesmerist 
could  not  divine.  Up  among  the  Wordsworthian  lakes  one 
day  ;  into  a  quiet  nook  in  town  the  next  ;  but  rarely  in 
general  society.  These  at  least,  were  his  characteristics  be- 
fore his  recent  marriage.  He  has  always  sought  privacy,  and 
it  seems  half-impudent  to  attempt  to  say  anything  of  one  who 
has  so  studiously  kept  aloof  from  London  society.  His  poetry 
is  quite  another  matter,  for  that  he  has  given  to  the  world  to 
criticize  as  it  may. 

No  one  need  be  told  that  the  poet  loves  to  wander  where  :— 

"  On  either  hand 
The  lawns  and  meadow-ledges  midway  down 
Hang  rich  in  flowers,  and  far  below  them  roars 
The  long  brook,  falling  through  the  clov'n  ravine 
In  cataract  after  cataract  to  the  sea." 


68  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

The  love  of  country,  and  country  things,  is  strong  and 
passiona,te  in  the  poet's  breast,  and  his  love  of  the  town  is 
faint.     But  he  is  often  in  London. 

There  is  an  old  tavern  in  the  metropolis  where  Sam  John- 
son, Garrick,  Goldsmith,  Reynolds,  and  others  used  to  meet 
for  social  purposes.  The  name  of  this  tavern  is  "  The  Cock," 
and  its  head- waiter  is  of  tremendous  proportions.  Tennyson 
used  to  like  to  go  there,  and  take  a  steak  with  a  friend,  and 
after  awhile  wrote  a  poem  on  it,  commencing  with  the  line  : 

"  Oh,  plump  head  waiter  at  the  '  Cock.'  " 

One  day  a  friend  of  ours  dropped  in  at  the  tavern,  and 
calling  the  head-waiter  to  him,  drew  forth  a  volume  of  Ten 
nyson's  poems  and  forthwith  read  to  him  the  poem  in 
question.  It  had  a  most  inflating  effect  upon  the  waiter — 
he  was  immortalized  in  Tennysonian  verse  !  Not  long  after 
our  friend  had  the  pleasure  of  dining  there  in  company  with 
the  poet,  and  contrived  to  whisper  to  the  head-waiter  that 
Tennyson  was  present.  His  attentions  at  once  became  pom- 
pous and  obsequious,  so  much  so  as  to  excite  the  laughter  of 
the  poet. 

'-'  What  can  be  the  matter  with  the  fellow  ?"  he  asked. 

"  It  is  a  penalty  you  pay  for  your  distinction,"  was  the 
reply.  "  Have  you  forgotten  your  poem  on  '  The  Cock  V 
Some  one  has,  I  dare  say,  been  reading  it  to  him  !" 

Although  Tennyson  has  not  been  fond  of  promiscuous 
society,  he  has  not  been  averse  to  spending  the  long  evenings 
of  a  London  winter,  in  the  society  of  a  few  select  and  dear 
friends,  and  these  know  well  how  rich  a  feast  it  is  to  listen  to 
his  conversation,  which,  if  it  be  not  so  profuse  as  that  of 
Macaulay,  is  the  more  to  be  prized. 

It  seems,  sometimes,  strange  that  a  poet  who  could  make 
such  exquisite  "  Orianas,"  and  "  Claribels,"  and  "  Lillians  ;' 


PICTURES    OF    MEN.  69 

whose  great  theme  has  been  the  sublime  passion  of  love, 
should  wait  until  almost  middle  age  for  marriage.  We  know 
ihat  it  has  been  more  than  hinted,  that  he  has  been  a  suiTerer 
through  his  afTections,  but  one  could  not  derive  the  fact  from 
his  poetry.  He  is  not  like  Byron  or  Lamartine,  and  if  he 
chooses,  such  heart-trials  should  forever  be  shrouded  in 
secrecy, 

"  Locksley  Hall,"  is  one  of  his  most  impassioned,  burning 
poems,  and  yet  it  is  a  simple  story,  and  quite  common  in  this 
inaterial  world  of  ours.  The  poet  loves  a  lady — is  loved  in 
return — she  proves  false  and  marries  a  mere  man  of  the 
world.  Those  who  have  read  the  poem,  need  not  be  reminded 
of  its  beauty,  pathos,  and  passion.  But  we  do  not  intend  a 
critique  on  Alfred  Tennyson's  poetry — our  object  is  merely  to 
say  a  few  things  of  the  jDoet. 

No  one  who  has  ever  looked  straight  into  the  beautiful 
eyes  of  Tennyson,  will  doubt  his  being  a  poet,  even  if  he  has 
never  read  a  line  of  his  poetry,  for  there  is  "unwritten 
poetry"  in  those  eyes.  There  is  a  spiritual  beauty  in  them 
one  rarely  sees — not  merely  intellectual,  but  full  of  love  and 
mildness.  His  forehead  is  large  and  rather  retreating ;  his 
lips  have  a  fulness,  which  betokens  the  capacity  for  powerful 
passion;  his  hair  is  dark,  and  hangs  in  rich  masses  down 
almost  upon  his  shoulders.  The  general  appearance  of  his 
countenance  is  one  of  gentle  melancholy.  It  is  very  plain 
after  you  have  seen  his  face,  that  he  has  known  what  it  is  to 
suffer.  With  the  melancholy,  there  is  a  modesty,  as  if  he 
shrank  from  general  observation,  as  he  does  in  fact.  In  his 
fme  brow,  and  the  expression  of  his  mouth,  one  gets  an  idea 
of  his  great  power  as  a  poet ;  and  from  his  eyes  flashes  the 
fire  of  a  "  fine  phrenzy." 

There  are  some  earnest  reformers — and  they  are  really  men 
of  intellect — in  England  who  think  that  Tennyson's  poetry  is 
not  imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  age — that  in  devotion  to 


^0  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

mere  Beauty,  he  has  neglected  Truth.  That  he  has  not 
asserted  the  glory  of  mere  manhood,  and  has  been  too  wilhng 
.to  agree  with  the  aristocratic  and  conventional  usages  and 
opinions  Avhich  obtain  in  England,  and  which  only  exalt  man 
according  to  his  ribbons  and  garters.  But  certainly  in  "  Clara 
Vere  de  Vere/'  the  poet  not  only  shows  little  respect  for  rank, 
but  gives  a  pungent  lesson  for  the  aristocracy  to  ponder.  It 
is  a  well-known  fact,  that  personally,  he  has  never  relished 
the  cold  and  heartless  conventionalities  which  break  so  many 
hearts  in  the  proud  "  sea-rock  isle."  He  has  shown  his  inde- 
pendence, in  refusing  to  mingle  heartily  in  such  society,  upon 
such  terms  as  it  demanded  of  him. 

The  critics  are  generally  supercilious  in  their  treatment  of 
a  young  author,  and  the  more  so  if  he  is  of  great  promise. 
The  cause  for  such  superciliousness  we  cannot  give,  but  it 
was  the  case  with  Alfred  Tennyson.  His  first  volume 
appeared  in  1830,  and  at  once  the  whole  pack  of  critics  set 
up  a  cry  of  "  Affectation  I"  "  affectation  I"  and  scarcely  one 
of  them  all,  seemed  willing  to  recognize  in  him  a  poet. 
There  was  one  exception  which  should  be  mentioned. 
W.  J.  Fox,  the  celebrated  "  infidel  preacher,"  as  he  is  styled 
by  the  orthodox,  in  an  able  article  at  the  time,  declared  that 
in  Alfred  Tennyson  he  saw  the  germs  of  a  great  poet.  How 
true  was  his  prediction  I 

Two  years  later,  a  second  volume  was  issued  by  the  poet, 
and  at  first  it  met  with  a  poor  reception.  He  then  waited 
ten  year?,  before  publishing  another  volume,  and  by  that  time 
the  world  was  ready  to  give  him  its  praise.  He  waited 
patiently,  labored  faithfully,  and  received  his  reward.  Let 
every  one  thus  labor  truly  and  bide  his  time,  for  it  will  surely 
come. 

Mr.  Tennyson  is  at  last  poet-laureate,  which  many  regret, 
as  the  ofiice  may  tend  to  narrow  his  ideas  of  freedom.  Such 
"iiowever  need  not  be  the  case,   though  Wordsworth  wrote 


PICTURES    OF    ME^^  '71 

Bome  very  foolish  and  abject  verses  in  his  capacity  of  Poet 
to  the  Q,neen.  It  nriight  have  been  as  well  to  have  given  the 
honor  to  Leigh  Hunt,  vv^ho  by  nature — of  late  years— is 
By  coph  antic. 

Of  Tennyson's  early  life  and  education,  W3  can  only  say 
— he  is  the  son  of  a  clergyman,  and  studied  at  Trinity  College 
at  Cambridge. 


CHARLES  DICKENS. 

Among  the  literary  characters  of  London,  Charles  Dickens 
is  quite  as  well  known  in  America  as  any,  and  better  than 
the  majority.  As  a  public  we  have  had  a  strong  love  and 
admiration  for  him  as  an  author  and  novelist,  and  a  pretty 
thorough  dislike  for  him  as  a  traveller,  or  travelling  writer. 
We  do  not  like  to  have  such  "  a  chiel  amang  us  takin'  notes  !" 
He  is  a  man  of  various  quahties — full  of  geniahty,  kindness, 
and  humor,  and  yet  not  without  a  certain  meanness,  as  is  ap- 
parent in  his  "  American  Notes." 

Who  that  has  wept  over  the  sorrows  of  poor  "  Oliver  Twist," 
or  shuddered  at  the  atrocious  crimes  of  the  Jew  Fagin,  and 
Sykes  ;  that  has  followed  the  fortunes  of  poor  little  Nell,  until 
she  droops  and  dies  ;  that  has  laughed  till  his  sides  ached 
over  Dick  Swiveller  and  his  Marchioness,  or  Mr.  Pickwick  and 
Sam  Weller  ;  or  "  made  a  note  of"  "  "WaFr,"  in  Dombey 
and  Son  ;  that  has  felt  his  heart  tremble  for  the  fate  of  little 
"  Emily,"  in  David  Copperfield,  will  ever  forget  Charles 
Dickens — or  wish  to  forget  him  ?  It  matters  not  if  he  has 
made  serious  blunders — we  cannot  spare  his  genius  ! 

The  "  mistake  of  his  lifetime,"  was  the  publication  of  the 
*'  American  Notes."  Englishmen  were  disappointed  in  them, 
though  not  chagrined,  as  we  were,  as  a  matter  of  course. 
Perhaps  we  were  the  more  deeply  hurt,  from  the  fact  that 
some  portions  of  the  book  were  unpleasantly  true.     Be  that 


72  WHAT    I    SAW    irf    LONDON. 

as  it  may,  as  a  whole,  the  "  jSTotes"  were  a  libel  upon  Amer 
ica,  and  Charles  Dickens  is  sorry  for  his  foolish  act.  We 
know  that  he  denies  this  in  the  preface  to  a  late  edition  o! 
the  "  JNTotes,"  but  we  are  nevertheless  well  satisfied  that  he 
would  not  write  such  a  book  again,  for  any  consideration,  foi 
the  English  people  have  so  high  an  opinion  of  us  as  to  doub' 
all  such  morose  books  upon  America.  However,  let  the  mat 
ter  pass  into  oblivion,  as  Charles  Dickens  himself  desires. 

One  never  meets  Charles  Dickens  in  the  streets  of  London, 
without  a  feeling  of  reverence  for  his  genius,  which  you  can 
discover  in  those  peculiar  eyes  of  his.  Upon  his  forehead  is 
"the  broad  mark  of  intellect,  and  he  is  physically  well-made. 
His  burly  head  of  hair  gives  him  a  continental  aspect,  not 
suited  to  London  streets  or  drawing-rooms. 

His  position  as  a  novelist  is  universally  acknowledged  as 
high — perhaps  the  highest  of  any  living  prose-writer.  He  is 
as  popular  now  as  ever,  though  there  is  not  so  much  excite- 
ment about  him  as  there  was  six  years  ago.  He  is  probably 
paid  higher  prices  for  his  novels  than  any  other  writer  in  Eng- 
land, if  not  in  Europe,  possibly  excepting  Macaulay  and  La- 
martine.  Yet  he  is  constantly  poor,  for  he  has  no  calculation, 
no  economy.  His  income  is  princely,  and  he  might  have 
amassed  a  pretty  fortune,  with  prudence  ;  instead  of  that,  he 
is  in  debt,  and  half  the  time  in  fear  of  bailifls. 

One  thing  should  be  spoken  in  Dickens'  praise — his  books? 
have  never  flattered  the  English  aristocracy — and  yet  they 
are  favorites  among  that  aristocracy.  We  have  known 
Americans  who  objected  to  his  works,  that  there  is  not  "  high 
life"  enough  in  them  ;  yet  such  a  man  as  the  Earl  of  Car- 
lisle, with  the  blood  of  the  Howards  coursing  in  his  veins, 
passionately  admires  his  works,  and  does  not  ask  for  descrip- 
tions of  aristocratic  life.  He  has  never  flattered  the  nobles 
of  England.  His  characters  are  all  below  aristocratic  life- — 
Dut  nobles,  nevertheless,  have  wept  over  them. 


PICTURES    OF    MEN.  IS 

Mt.  Dickens  has  a  lovely  family  ;  it  is  well  known  that  he 
has  risen  from  humble  life  to  his  present  distinguished  position, 
though  he  has  known  few  hardships  in  comparison  with  many 
sons  of  Literature. 

The  "  Household  Words,"  a  weekly  journal,  with  which 
Mr,  Dickens  has  not  half  so  much  to  do  as  some  people  im- 
agine, has  a  large  circulation,  mainly  in  consequence  of  his 
popularity,  though  it  well  merits  its  success. 

Mr.  Home,  a  distinguished  London  writer,  in  a  long  and 
able  paper  upon  Mr.  Dickens'  productions,  shows  how  much 
poetry  there  is  in  his  prose.  Who  does  not  remember  the 
beautiful  paragraph  which  closes  the  death  of  gentle  Nell  in 
the  "  Old  Curiosity  Shop?"  Yet  few  even  thought  those 
words  were  perfect  poetry,  only  lacking  rhyme.  Mr.  Home, 
without  altering  or  misplacing  a  word,  divides  them  thus,  and 
says  truly  that  they  equal  in  profound  beauty  some  of  the  best 
passages  of  Wordsworth  : 

"Oh,  it  is  hard  to  take  to  heart 
The  lesson  that  such  deaths  will  teach 
But  let  no  man  reject  it, 
For  it  is  one  that  all  must  learn, 
And  is  a  mighty,  universal  Truth, 
When  Death  strikes  down  the  innocent  and  young 
For  every  fragile  form  from  which  he  lets 

The  parting  spirit  free, 

A  hundred  virtues  rise 
In  shapes  of  mercy,  charity  and  love 
To  walk  the  world  and  bless  it ; 

Of  every  tear 
That  sorrowing  mortals  shed  on  such  green  graves. 
Some  good  is  born,  some  gentler  nature  comes." 

Trul)-  this  is  poetry  !  And  the  man  who  could  write  it 
must  have  a  heart  soft  and  sympathizing,  as  well  as  genius. 

It  is  a  rare  thing  for  a  man  to  possess  universal  and  abiding 
popularity  without  good  cause,  and  the  secret  of  Mr.  Dickens' 


74  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

popularity  lies  in  the  homely,  natural  beauty  of  his  writings. 
His  humor  is  irresistible,  because  life-like,  and  his  pathos 
melts  all  hearts,  because  it  is  true  and  unaffected. 

We  well  recollect  when  first  we  read  the  "  Old  Curiosity 
Shop,"  and  how  evening  after  evening  we  followed,  with  in- 
tense interest  the  old  man  and  little  Nell  ;  how  we  laughed 
over  Dick  Swiveiler,  and  hated  ugly  duilp  ;  how  gentle, 
never-murmuring  Nell  stole  our  heart  away,  and  when,  after 
bitter  poverty,  she  died,  so  young  in  years,  so  old  in  sorrow, 
how  the  sad  event  haunted  us  with  the  vividness  of  a  real 
and  present  death.  To  us,  the  man  who  wrote  that  story 
will  ever  be  a  bright  genius,  and  also  a  man  worthy  of  affec- 
tion. 

R.  M.  MILNES. 

Richard  Monckton  Milnes  is  somewhat  known  with  us  as 
a  poet — he  is  also  a  Member  of  ParUament.  He,  however, 
makes  no  pretensions  as  a  statesman  or  law-maker,  his  chief 
merit  being  that  of  a  sweet  rhymer.  We  have  often  been 
charmed  by  his  songs,  which  are  generally  exquisitely  beau- 
tiful in  measure  and  in  conception.  He  scarcely  ever  speaks 
in  the  House,  but  is  popular  with  the  "  powers  that  be,"  gen- 
erally taking  good  care  to  move  with  the  aristocracy.  He  is 
not  popular  with  the  people,  not  even  as  a  poet,  for  his  poems 
oftencr  figure  in  Court  Albums,  and  Books  of  Beauty,  than 
elsewhere.  Still  he  is  a  man  of  ardent  sympathies,  and 
though  lacking  poetic  impulse  and  fire,  he  is  full  of  delicate 
song  and  sentiment,  and  possesses  an  acute  ear,  as  well  as 
the  power  to  constru  ct  rhymes  which  will  satisfy  the  nicest- 
critic. 

When  we  first  visited  the  House  of  Commons,  Mr.  Milnea 
was  pointed  out  to  us,  and  when  we  gazed  upon  his  chaste 
and  beautiful  brow,  and  saw  the  flash  of  intelligence  in  hia 
eye,  we  saw  that  he  had  at  least  the  outward  form  of  genius 


PICTLKES    OF    MEN.  "75 

But  in  poL'tic  capabilities  he  has  been  surpassed  by  men 
whose  names  are  unknown  to  the  world.  How  few  are  there 
with  us  who  ever  heard  the  name  of  Charles  Tennyson  ? 
Alfred  Tennyson  the  world  worships  as  a  poet — but  does  it 
know  Charles  Tennyson  ?  Such  a  person  there  is,  in  or  near 
London,  v/ho  has  written  some  of  the  m.ost  beautiful  poetry 
ever  published.  Several  years  ago  he  published  a  small  vol- 
ume of  poetry,  in  a  modest,  retiring  manner.  He  is  a  brother 
of  Alfred  Tennyson,  and  has  never  published  a  verse  isince 
when  he  issued  that  little  volume.  The  book,  now  nearly 
out  of  print,  overflowed  wath  the  most  beautiful  and  touching 
poetry  ;  some  was  chaste  and  tender  as  any  Keats  ever  wrote  ; 
some  passionate  as  Byron's  ;  and  not  a  line  was  common- 
place. The  critics,  even,  said  Charles  Tennyson  promised  to 
be  a  great  poet.  But  the  spirit  of  song  had  descended  with 
richness  and  power  upon  his  brother  Alfred  (so  he  thought), 
and  he  modestly  retired  from  the  paths  of  poetry,  that  his 
brother  might  receive  the  undivided  honors  of  the  world  I  Is 
there  not  something  exquisitely  touching  in  such  a  renounce- 
ment of  all  personal  ambition  in  favor  of  a  brother  perhaps 
st'.ll  more  richly  gifted  in  song  ? 

That  first  little  book  of  poems,  so  beautiful  and  promising, 
was  his  last.  Here  is  a  sonnet  from  it,  and  we  know  the 
reader  will  agree  with  us  in  calling  it  beautiful : 

"to  mart. 

"  I  trust  thee  from  my  soul,  0  Mary  dear 
But  oft-times,  when  delight  has  fullest  power, 
Hope  treads  too  lightly  for  herself  to  hear, 
And  doubt  is  ever  by  until  the  hour . 
I  trust  thee,  Mary,  but  till  thou  art  mine, 
Up  from  thy  foot  unto  thy  golden  hair, 
0  let  me  still  misgive  thee  and  repine, 
Uncommon  doubts  spring  up  with  blessings  rare  1 
Thine  eyes  of  purest  love  give  surest  sign, 


J  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Drooping  with  fondness,  and  thy  blushes  tell 

A  flitting  tale  of  steadiest  faith  and  zeal ; 

Yet  I  will  doubt — to  make  success  divine  ! 

A  tide  of  summer  dreams  with  gentlest  swell 

"Will  bear  upon  me  then,  and  I  shall  love  most  well  I" 

DOUGLAS  JERROLD. 

Mr.  Jerrold  is  a  man  of  literary  note  in  London — is  a 
writer  of  caustic  power,  and  is  better  known  as  a  shining 
wit  than  a  writer  of  pathos,  though  in  portions  of  his  works 
there  are  touches  of  exquisite  tenderness.  There  is,  how- 
ever, an  irony  in  most  of  his  writings,  which  is  too  bitter 
to  be  pleasant,  and  which  is,  perhaps,  one  result  of  achieving 
a  brilliant  position  in  a  country  where  titles  are  worth  more 
than  genius.  Mr.  Jerrold  seems  to  care  little  for  the  criti- 
cisms of  the  world,  not  so  much  as  he  should.  He  is  a  man 
of  brilUant  parts,  and  it  is  to  be  lamented  that  his  personal 
example  should  be  a  dangerous  one  for  his  friends  to  follow. 
It  cannot  be  concealed  that  he  is  wearing  out  a  constitution 
naturally  strong  by  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors.  It  is  not 
a  strange  thing  for  Douglas  Jerrold  to  be  intoxicated.  He  is 
a  man  of  remarkable  looks,  yet  you  can  read  dissipation  on 
his  countenance,  and  nowhere  has  it  so  sad  a  look  as  when  it 
glares  out  beneath  the  brow  of  genius. 

An  English  friend  vouches  for  the  following  anecdote  of 
he  witty  writer,  while  in  his  cups. 

At  a  private  bachelor  dinner-party,  while  the  "red  wine" 
was  circulating  freely,  until  the  author  and  his  jovial  friends 
had  become,  to  use  the  fashionable  phrase  for  inebriety, 
highly  exhilarated,  it  was  proposed  by  one  of  the  party  to 
seize  upon  a  Frenchman  present,  who  was  possessed  of  whis- 
kers and  a  moustache  of  large  dimensions,  and  shave  him 
close  and  clean.  The  proposition  was  seconded  by  the  author 
of  "Mrs.  Caudle,"  and- the  ensuing  morning  the  poor  French- 


PICTURES    OF    MEN.  7*? 

man  awoke  from  a  half  delirium  to  find  himself  beardless,  t( 
his  great  chagrin. 

It  is  when  himself,  and  free  from  all  intoxicating  influen 
ces,  that  Jerrold  writes  his  noblest  performances — but  some 
of  his  pages  contain  internal  evidence  of  being  the  offspring 
of  a  brain  diseased  by  the  use  of  wine. 

The  father  of  Mr.  Jerrold  Avas  the  manager  of  a  country 
theatre,  but  Douglas,  when  eleven  years  old,  went  on  board 
a  man-of-war  as  midshipman,  where  he  remained  two  years, 
until  heartily  sick  of  the  life.  At  thirteen,  poor  and  friend- 
less, he  came  to  London  to  make  his  fortune.  He  first  learned 
the  trade  of  printing,  and  after  a  time  began  to  write  minor 
dramas  for  the  small  theatres.  He  produced  his  "  Hent  Day" 
in  1832,  and  on  the  night  that  it  was  played,  in  Drury  Lane 
Theatre,  one  of  the  principal  actors  in  it  was  an  old  chum 
of  Jerrold's  on  board  the  man-of-war — and  they  had  not  seen 
or  heard  of  each  other  for  sixteen  years  till  that  night. 

Li  1836  he  published  "Men  of  Character,"  in  three  vol- 
imies,  a  work  of  much  ability.  Then  came  "  Bubbles  of 
the  Day,"  followed  by  "  Cakes  and  Ale" — both  capital  pro- 
ductions. His  "  Chronicles  of  Clovernook"  are  inimitable, 
and  "  The  Folly  of  the  Sword"  is  a  powerful  thrust  at  wai. 
There  is,  however,  too  much  of  destructibility  in  his  nature — 
and  his  bitter  satire  does  not  relish  for  a  long  time. 


CHAPTER  V. 

COSTUMES  AND  CUSTOMS 

CUSTOMS. 

In  the  streets  of  London  the  American  is  at  once  struck 
with  the  appearance  of  the  dray-horses.  They  are  generally 
of  a  Flemish  breed,  but  such  enormous  creatures  we  never 
5aw  in  an  American  town,  nor  even  in  Paris.  They  are  uni- 
versally used  for  all  heavy  business  in  London,  and  the  city- 
proper  is  full  of  them  during  business  hours.  Their  strength 
is  massive,  and  their  whole  appearance  one  of  great  solidity 
and  power.  They  seem  to  have  a  natural  tendency  to  obes- 
ity, for  we  never  saw  a  poor  one.  Some  of  them  are  as  large 
as  three  or  four  common  horses,  and  we  once  saw  one  which 
we  presume  would  have  weighed  down  half  a  dozen  respect- 
able horses  of  the  common  breed.  As  many  as  five  or  six  are 
sometimes  attached  to  one  load,  but  are  always  harnessed  one 
before  the  other,  and  never  two  abreast.  The  loads  which 
they  draw  are  enormous,  but  not  beyond  their  strength.  In 
fact  the  whole  race  of  horses  in  London  is  far  superior  to  those 
of  Paris.  Fine  carriages  and  horses  are  a  rare  sight  in  the 
French  capital  in  comparison  with  the  famous  West  End  of 
London.  Whether  the  climate  of  France  affects  the  breed 
injuriously  or  not  we  do  not  know,  but  they  are  much  inferior 
in  size  and  beauty  to  the  horses  of  London,  whether  dray,  car- 
riage, or  riding  horses. 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  YO 

111  the  matter  of  carriages,  too,  the  stranger  from  America 
is  struck  with  surprise.  The  family  carriages  of  the  aristoc- 
racy are  perhaps  the  most  magniticent  of  any  in  the  world. 
Thousands  of  dollars  are  often  expended  on  the  grand  family 
carriage,  and  when  the  family  comes  to  town  for  the  season, 
from  the  country,  they  come  hy  railway,  yet  in  the  family 
carriage,  for  it  is  a  peculiar  feature  to  England,  that  private 
families  ride  hy  rail  in  their  own  carriages,  which  are  lashed 
safely  to  platform  cars — the  price  of  that  kind  of  travelling 
being  dear,  as  a  matter  of  course. 

In  this  manner  they  travel  quietly  and  in  a  secluded  man- 
ner, and  when  arrived  in  town,  the  carriage,  which  bears  the 
family  coat-of-arms,  is  ready  for  service,  the  horses  having 
perhaps  arrived  in  advance.  We  scarcely  ever  yet  travelled 
in  England  by  rail,  without  noticing  on  every  train  one  (or 
more),  private  carriage  attached. 

AVith  the  single  exception  of  handsome  family  carriages, 
England  is  in  the  rear  of  America,  in  that  line  of  manufac- 
tures. All  other  vehicles  are  at  least  as  heavy  again  as  those 
used  with  us.  We  have  often  wondered  why  such  unwieldy 
and  enormous  things  are  continued  in  use  in  this  age  of  inven- 
tion. The  cabriolets  are  generally  much  too  heavy  for  one 
horse  to  draw,  and  the  transportation  wagons  are  all  tivice 
as  heavy  as  is  necessary,  and  are  constructed  with  little  in- 
genuity. 

The  omnibuses  are  tolerably  well  constructed,  and  are  al- 
ways, when  the  road  is  clear,  driven  with  speed.  They  hold 
twelve  iu;  and  the  same  number  outside.  On  certain  routes 
you  can  travel  six  miles  for  three-pence — six  cents,  American 
money.  The  conductors  have  a  wretched  way  of  abbreviating 
the  names  of  the  places  to  which  they  drive,  so  that  a  strangei 
finds  it  impossible  to  understand  them.  We  were  one  evening 
at  a  family  party  where  George  Catlin,  of  Indian  renown, 
arrived  an  hour  too  late.     He  had  been  carried  miles  out  of 


80  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

his  way  by  trusting  to  the  voice  of  an  omnibus  "  cad.'*  As 
an  example,  we  will  give  the  genuine  omnibus-pronunciation 
of  "  Kingsland,"  a  district  adjoining  the  city.  The  conduc- 
tors going  there  generally  sing  out  "  Ins-la  !"  "  Ins-la !" 
Other  names  are  murdered  in  a  still  more  atrocious  manner 
by  these  unmannerly  fellows.  There  is  one  conductor  in 
London  who  has  amassed  quite  a  property,  but  rich  as  he  is, 
he  still  continues  to  attend  to  the  six-pences  and  three-pences 
of  travellers,  at  the  door  of  his  old  omnibus.  On  pleasant 
days  he  dresses  in  a  fine  blue  broadcloth  coat,  white  vest,  and 
spares  no  expense  in  any  part  of  his  wardrobe.  He  is  looked 
upon  as  a  natural  curiosity. 

At  least  one  half  the  days  in  a  year  of  London  weather  are 
wet  and  rainy,  and  during  ^uch  weather  the  streets  are  full 
of  mud.  We  have  not  the  faintest  conception  of  muddy  side- 
walks in  American  towns.  In  such  weather  no  man  can 
walk  the  streets  without  covering  his  nether  garments  with 
filth,  and  it  might  be  supposed  that  it  would  be  utterly  im- 
possible for  ladies  to  walk  in  such  weather.  An  American 
town-bred  lady  would  as  soon  think  of  swimming  up  the 
Thames  against  tide,  as  walking  far  in  such  ankle-deep  mud, 
but  English  ladies  do  it,  and  with  consummate  dexterity  too. 
We  have  often  in  such  weather  wondered,  how  the  ladies 
whom  we  have  met  on  the  side- walks  could  keep  themselves 
Bo  neat  and  dry,  but  continued  practice  has  made  them  ex- 
pert. You  will  see  scores  of  fine  ladies  on  such  days,  as  well 
as  on  the  sunniest,  each  suspending  her  garments  gracefully 
with  one  hand,  just  above  the  reach, of  the  mud,  and  tripping 
along  on  tiptoe  wnth  admirable  skill,  or  perhaps  walking  with 
wooden  clogs  under  her  shoes.  Some  of  them  will  walk  milea 
in  this  manner,  preserving  their  dresses  and  skirts  in  their 
original  purity.  The  natural  fondness  of  the  English  women 
for  out-door  exercise,  will  not  be  curbed  in  any  weather. 
Those  who  are  very  wealthy  and  in  town,  will  not  walk  in 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  81 

town,  but  as  soon  as  the  season  is  over,  they  fly  to  the  country 
for  air  and  exercise.  The  town-season  in  England  is  not  very 
long,  and  therefore,  instead  of  staying  out  q/"  London,  as  many 
of  our  fashionable  people  do,  out  of  American  towns,  for  a  few 
weeks,  many  of  the  best  families  stay  in  it  only  a  few.  Those 
families  not  rich  enough  for  country-seats  and  carriages,  do 
not  hesitate  to  get  their  exercise  07i  foot,  ?m^  there  are  many 
families  with  one,  two,  and  even  three  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars, who  do  not  consider  themselves  worth  enough  to  keep  an 
establishment  of  that  kind.  Men  with  an  income  of  five  or 
six  thousand  dollars  a  year,  generally  do  not  keep  carriages  if 
residing  in  London.  Some  do  not  wish  to  keep  up  an  estab- 
lishment, and  others  think  they  cannot  afford  one. 

The  passenger4rade  from  one  part  of  London  to  another,  by 
the  pigmy  steamers  which  ply  up  and  down  the  river  Thames, 
is  a  peculiar  feature  of  London.  Thousands,  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands travel  up  and  down  the  river  by  these  little  boats,  be- 
cause they  are  cheaper  than  the  omnibuses,  and  in  going  by 
them,  one  avoids  the  noise  of  the  streets.  You  can  go  from 
London  Bridge,  in  the  city,  up  to  Westminster,  near  the 
Houses  of  Parliament,  for  a  half-penny,  penny,  or  two-pence, 
according  to  the  line  of  boats  you  take,  and  the  distance  is 
more  than  thiee  miles.  Or  you  can  go  from  Chelsea,  an  up- 
per suburb  of  London,  down  to  Thames  Tunnel,  a  distance  of 
eight  miles,  for  three-pence.  These  boats  are  very  small,  and 
have  no  comfortable  cabins  for  passengers,  and  all  sit  upon 
deck,  no  matter  what  the  weather  may  be.  This  would  not 
suit  the  American  pubhc,  but  Englishmen  are,  though  great 
grumblers,  not  so  luxurious  in  their  tastes  as  we  are — at  least 
in  such  matters.  On  pleasant  days  the  ride  on  the  river- 
boats  is  delightful  and  refreshing,  after  moving  amid  the 
hubbub  of  the  streets. 

These  steamers  are  all  worked  on  the  low-pressue  principle, 
and  it  is  low  enough  to  suit  anybody,  we  are  sure.  A  few 
^*  6 


82  ^VHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOrs. 

years  since  one  of  the  cheap  boats  burst  its  boiler,  and  great 
was  the  excitement  over  England,  though,  if  we  recollect 
aright,  only  one  man  was  killed. 

There  are  half-penny,  penny,  and  two-penny  boats  con- 
stantly running  between  different  points,  from  early  in  the 
morning  until  one  o'clock  at  night.  The  captains  of  the  boats 
always  stand  on  the  paddle-box,  and  with  one  hand  make? 
the  signs  for  the  helmsman  to  follow,  and  a  boy  stands  perched 
over  the  engineer's  department,  who  sings  out  in  a  shrill 
voice  the  orders  of  the  captain,  that  the  grim  officer  below, 
who  has  the  machinery  under  the  control  of  his  lingers,  may 
know  when  to  start,  when  to  stop,  and  when  to  reverse  the 
motion  of  the  paddle-wheels.  The  master  of  the  boat,  though 
perhaps  never  in  his  life  out  of  sight  of  St.  Paul's,  nevertheless 
has  the  air  of  a  man  who  has  braved  "  the  mountain  wave,'* 
and  whose  "  home  is  on  the  deep."  And  he  is  as  weather- 
beaten  as  any  sea-veteran,  for  he  hardly  ever  leaves  his  boat, 

Londoners  do  not  pronounce  many  of  their  words  as  Ameri- 
cans do.  We  are  inclined  to  think  that  well-bred  Englishmen 
take  more  pains  with  their  pronunciation,  than  the  same  class 
with  us,  but  if  the  whole  population  is  taken  into  account, 
we  are  far,  very  far  in  advance  of  England.  There  is  a 
peculiar  pronunciation  common  to  Londoners,  and  the 
stranger  who  has  a  careful  ear,  can  at  once  distinguish  it 
from  the  pronunciation  of  Manchester  or  Bristol,  and  easily 
from  that  of  an  American. 

There  are  words  used  too,  which  have  a  very  different 
signification  with  us,  and  some  which  would  be  called  vulgar. 
Expressions  are  common  in  comparatively  good  society,  which 
would  not  suit  American  ears.  A  wet,  disagreeable  day  is 
often  called  by  fine  ladies,  "  a  nasty  day,"  and  when  a  person 
is  exhausted  with  a  long  walk,  or  any  physical  exertion,  it  is 
common  to  say,  *  I  am  knocked  up,"  a  phrase  which  to  a 
ibreigner   has    no    signification    whatever.       Why    physical 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  83 

weariness  should  be    styled  "  knocked    up"-ness,   we   cannot 
possibly  imagine. 

The  word  "  guess"  has  no  such  signification  in  England, 
as  is  given  to  it  in  Yankee-land.  However  we  have  high 
authority  for  clinging  to  our  use  of  the  word.  The  old 
authors  used  it  in  the  same  manner. 

r  Ever  since  Judge  Halliburton,  of  Nova  Scotia,  wrote  his 
"  Sam  Slick,"  Englishmen  have  supposed  that  the  dialect  of 
tliat  worthy  gentleman,  is  the  dialect  of  pretty  much  the 
whole  American  people.  Whenever  any  journalist  wishes 
to  give  Jonathan  a  severe  hit,  the  expressions,  "  tarnatioit 
sm.art"  or  "  pretty  considerable,"  are  used  with  terrible  effect  ! 
We  doubt  if  there  is  a  people  under  the  sun,  that  so  murders 
its  own  language  as  the  English.  There  are  many  dialects, 
even  in  England.  A  well-educated  man  cannot  understand 
the  working-people  in  country  parts.  Some  drop  the  letter  h, 
where  it  should  be  used,  Sind  vice  versa,  and  others  give  every 
letter  a  wrong  sound.  Surely  it  ill  becomes  any  one  belong- 
ing to  such  a  country  to  iind  fault  with  American  pronunciation. 

CLASSES. 

There  are  many  classes  of  people  to  be  met  in  the  streets 
of  London,  and  occasionally  there  are  faces  and  figures  which 
it  is  impossible  to  forget.  There  is  little  man-worship  in  the 
business  streets — a  lord  in  Cheapside,  is  no  more  than  a 
merchant,  and  nobody  stops  to  inquire  whether  he  be  a  lord, 
or  tallow  chandler.  Up  at  the  West  End,  beyond  the  pre- 
cincts of  the  city-proper,  you  will  find  plenty  of  it,  for  Trade 
does  not  reign  supreme  there,  but  Wealth  and  Blood.  There 
you  may  see  a  plenty  of  fine  carriages  every  day,  and  lords 
and  splendid  ladies,  and  the  people  often  gaze  at  them  as  if 
awe-struck.  Some  of  the  English  nobles  are  intensely  proud 
and  will  not  acknowledge  a  civility. 


64  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

A  friend  of  ours  was  one  day  walking  in  one  of  the  Parks, 
when  the  Duke  of  Wellington  chanced  to  ride  past  on  horse- 
back. Several  English  gentlennen,  within  a  few  feet  of  him, 
pulled  off  their  hats  and  bowed.  The  old  Duke  looked 
Straight  at  them,  but  never  touched  his  hat  nor  bowed  his 
head  in  return  I  Our  friend  trusted  that  the  sycophants  had 
learned  a  lesson  which  would  profit  them.  Hov/  different 
was  his  conduct  from  that  of  George  Washington  on  such 
occasions.  No  man  ever  bowed  to  him,  however  humble  in 
station,  without  an  acknowledgment  of  the  compliment. 

West  of  Charing  Cross,  the  carriages  in  th^  streets  are 
generally  elegant,  and  the  horses  fine  and  full  of  mettle. 
The  people  walking  in  the  streets  are  unlike  those  down  in 
the  city.  There  is  a  look  of  fashion  in  their  garments,  a 
gentility  in  figure,  one  does  not  see  in  the  Cheapside,  or  Lom- 
bard-street. There  are  more  idlers  here — men  hunting  after 
pleasure,  instead  of  poor  clerks  with  pale  faces  hurrying  away 
on  errands,  or  portly  merchants  going  to,  or  returning  from  the 
Exchange.  At  the  proper  time  of  day,  splendid  carriages 
stand  before  the  doors  of  some  of  the  elegant  shops,  while  the 
beautiful  ladies  who  came  in  them  are  "  shopping."  Countesses 
and  Duchesses  in  any  quantity  are  occasionally  thus  ernployed. 
The  female  nobility  of  England  is,  without  any  doubt,  the 
finest  in  the  world.  Their  beauty  is  almost  unequalled,  and 
their  graceful  pride  only  gives  to  it  a  wondrous  charm.  They 
are  far  superior  as  a  class  to  the  male  nobility,  in  beauty,  and 
there  is  no  class  of  merely  fashionable  women  in  the  world 
who  will  bear  a  comparison  with  them.  They  do  not  disdain 
to  get  sufficient  physical  exercise  for  health,  while  in  the 
country,  taking  long  rides  and  walks  and  ramblimg  over  the 
fields,  and  riding  on  horseback  while  in  town.  The  fashion- 
able women  of  America  do  not  look  one  half  so  healthy  or 
wholesomely  beautiful,  for  they  are  too  fastidious  for  out-of-door 
exercise.     But    the   true  type  of  the   American  women  is 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  85 

Bweeter,    fairer,    more    delicately   beautiful,    than    even    an 
English  peeress. 

But  if  the  West  End  of  London  can  show  its  proud  and 
beautiful  peeress,  the  East  End  has  its  pale  factory,  or  shop- 
girl, and  the  sight  of  some  of  these  is  enough  to  draw  tears 
into  any  eyes.  Imagine  a  girl  of  fifteen,  with  soft  blue  eyes. 
once  merry  perhaps,  and  a  face  white  as  snow,  and  long, 
thin,  and  trembling  arms,  a  slight  body  and  almost  tottering 
steps.  See  how  sad  those  young  eyes  are,  which  at  so  young 
an  age  should  only  know  smiles,  but  in  fact  know  only  tears. 
The  sight  is  as  touching  a  picture,  as  any  you  can  look  at 
in  any  painting-gallery  in  London.  The  very  poverty  of  her 
dress  as  it  is  neat,  and  even  graceful,  adds  to  the  pathos  of 
the  sight.  She  turns  those  blue,  tearful  eyes  up  at  you,  as  if 
she  thought  you  of  a  different  race  from  herself,  belonging  to 
another  world,  for  you  are  well  dressed,  and  have  money  and 
a  look  of  pride,  while  she  never  knows  what  it  is  to  sit  down 
to  a  well -furnished  table,  or  to  ride  in  a  carriage,  or  to  ride 
at  all.  No,  she  cannot  even  walk  among  the  trees  and 
flowers  in  the  country — they  are  too  far  away,  and  she  must 
work  all  the  livelong  day,  or  starve. 

This  sight  is  not  an  uncommon  one  in  London,  by  any 
means,  nor  are  you  obliged  always  to  leave  the  West  End  to 
find  it,  for  there  are  wan  and  suffering  women  right  among 
the  proud  and  noble.  We  have  seen  faces  in  Belgravia  which 
were  sad  enough  to  make  one  weep. 

We  have  often  met  in  the  streets,  an  old-fashioned  English 
farmer,  and  he  is  a  sight  to  make  one's  heart  grow  warm  and 
merry.  For  his  rubicund  figure  speaks  pleasantly,  and 
emphatically  too,  of  all  the  comforts  of  an  English  farm-house. 
His  face  is  round  and  merry,  and  his  cheeks  rich  as  rarest 
port,  while  his  voice,  though  rough,  is  honest  and  manly. 
Perchance  one  of  his  daughters  is  with  him  in  his  cart,  and 
if  so,  you  can  see  a  specimen  of    the  country  health  of  old 


86  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

England.  Her  eyes  are  full  of  witcher}^  and  her  face  all 
smiles,  and  you  know  that  s/ze  has  never  known  career  suffer- 
ing. Contrast  her  fair  merry  countenance  with  the  pale 
anxious  face  of  the  tremhling  shop-girl  I  The  streets  of 
London  are  full  of  such  contrasts 

The  old  English  Squire  is  another  character  which  one 
meets,  though  rarely,  in  the  husy  thoroughfares,  and  we  con- 
fess that  he  always  looks  as  if  out  of  his  place.  He  alv/ays 
dresses — if  he  is  of  the  real  old-fashioned  class — as  English 
squires  dressed  two  hundred  years  ago.  His  face  reminds  you 
of  ale  and  port  wine,  and  "  the  old  roast  beef  of  England." 
His  knees  shine  with  silver  buckles,  and  he  discards  the  small 
clothes  of  the  present  age.  His  horror  of  anything  French 
amounts  to  a  mania,  and  a  moustache  is  in  his  opinion,  about 
as  becoming  as  "  a  shoe»brush  stuck  beneath  the  nose."  And 
though  he  talks  loudly  and  harshly,  with  all  his  stiff  toryism, 
and  his  utter  detestation  of  all  new  lights,  ideas,  and  politics, 
the  old  Squire  has  a  warm  heart  beating  beneath  that  old- 
fashioned  wai>tcoat.  He  is  generous  to  a  fault,  as  you  vrould 
be  sure  to  believe,  were  you  once  to  sit  down  to  his  plenteous 
table,  and  live  with  him  awhile  at  home.  He  has  no  business 
to  be  seen  in  London,  however— he  is  not  in  keeping  there. 

The  English  merchant  is  generally  a  fine-looking  man, 
with  an  easy  countenance,  just  tinged  with  wine  perhaps. 
On  '  Change'  he  is  not  the  being  that  he  is  at  home.  Business 
seems  for  a  time  to  freeze  up  his  manners  and  sympathies. 
In  the  streets  you  can  tell  him  by  his  portly  dignified  air. 
Hfi  looks  different  from  the  American  merchant,  because 
possessed  of  more  phlegm.  A  New  York  or  Boston  man  of 
business  looks  too  worn  and  excited  when  in  the  streets,  to 
compare  favorably  with  one  of  tlie  same  class  in  London. 

The  chimney-sweeps  are  a  class  that  could  not  well  be 
dispensed  v/ith,  and  they  are  a  singular  class,  too.  Their 
cries  may  be  heard  in  every  street,  early  in  th?  morning,  at 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  87 

one  lies  upon  his  pillow.  Their  vocation  is  a  bad  one,  and 
they  deserve  better  pay  than  they  get.  Many  of  them  are 
mere  boys,  and  we  once  knew  of  a  case  where  a  lad  was  sent 
up  a  chimney  by  his  bra'al  master  while  it  was  yet  v/arm, 
and  when  he  came  down  he  was  almost  smothered,  and  sc 
severely  burned  that  he  died  in  a  few  hours. 

COSTUME. 

The  day  for  splendid  costume  is  nearly  over  in  England. 
The  old  days,  "  the  brave  days  of  old,"  are  passed  away  never 
to  return.  Perhaps  no  country  in  the  world  has  paid  more 
attention  to  all  "the  })omp  and  circumstance"  of  dress  than 
England,  in  the  centuries  that  are  past.  But  now  even  pro- 
fessional costume  is  nearly  extinct.  Black  is  now  the  univer- 
sal color  ;  it  used  to  be  distinctive  of  the  clerical  profession, 
but  the  innovating  age  has  made  it  common  to  all  classes, 
md  clergymen  have  now  nothing  but  the  white  cravat  to  dis- 
tinguish their  dress  from  anybody's  else,  and  that  even  is  worn 
by  many  besides  clergymen. 

A  man  of  the  world  may  in  the  morning  put  on  his  dash- 
ing colors  if  he  please — his  flashing  vest  and  pants,  but  aa 
soon  as  evening  comes  he  becomes  sober,  and  a  rigid  etiquette 
obliges  him  to  wear  a  dress  of  black.  But  the  clergyman 
Tjannot  even  vary  his  color,  nor  wear  moustachee,  though  he 
iam  dance  on  certain  occasions. 

The  bar,  and  the  army  and  navy,  the  police  and  the 
beadles,  have  each  their  peculiar  dress,  while  on  duty.  In 
the  street  you  cannot  tell  a  peer  from  a  shopman  by  the 
dress,  generally  the  peer  is  the  plainer  dressed  of  the  two. 
But  you  can  always  tell  a  gentleman  by  his  manners.  All 
nobles  are  not  gentlemen,  nor  all  gentlemen  nobles,  but  a 
true  gentleman  will  command  respect  wherever  he  is,  unless 
it  be    among  a  certain  portion  of  fashionable  aristocracy. 


88  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

There  is  a  peculiar  set  of  people  in  all  countries  distingiiisli 
ed  more  for  their  worship  of  trifles  than  of  genius,  intellect, 
or  goodness  ;  where  a  gentleman  is  not  always  sure  of  atten- 
ion — but  real  gentlemen  avoid  the  society  of  such. 

The  Court  dress,  although  splendid,  has  little  of  the  extrav- 
aganC3  of  the  courts  of  Ehzabeth  and  James  I.  It  is  said 
that  the  shoes  worn  hy  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  on  levee-days 
were  worth  more  than  thirty  thousand  dollars,  they  v/ere  so 
studded  with  precious  stones,  and  the  rest  of  his  attire  Wds  in 
a  similar  style  of  extravagance.  A  couple  of  pounds  will 
now  shoe  the  best  peer  in  England. 

The  artists  complain  of  the  penuriousness  of  the  present 
age.  In  the  old  times  a  painting  was  worth  looking  at  with 
its  fine  drapery  and  great  show  of  dress  ;  but  now  every  one 
is  dressed  plain  and  sleek,  and  all  are  alike.  In  a  group  of 
figures  in  a  painting  it  certainly  makes  some  difference  in  the 
fjffect  whether  all  are  arrayed  alike,  or  difierently. 

It  is  said  that  the  finest  example  of  royal  costume  extant 
may  be  seen  in  the  effigy  of  Edward  III.  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  his  queen,  Philippa.  The  king  is  arrayed  in  a 
long  dalmatic,  open  in  front  nearly  to  the  thigh,  and  showing 
the  tunic  beneath.  The  mantle  is  fastened  across  the  breast 
by  a  belt  richly  jewelled.  The  queen  wears  a  close-fitting 
gown,  a  richly  jewelled  girdle,  and  tight  sleeves.  A  wreath 
is  fastened  by  brooches  on  the  shoulders.  Prince  Albert  and 
Glueen  Victoria  were  thus  attired  at  the  grand  "  Bal  Masque'^ 
given  at  Buckingham  Palace  in  the  year  1842 

The  mutations  in  costume  during  the  last  three  and  four 
centuries  are  too  frequent  to  describe.  In  head-dress  at  one 
time  lofty  periwigs  were  in  fashion  ;  at  another  pomatum 
and  powder,  a  fashion  which  Pitt  knocked  to  pieces  when  he 
invented  the  Hair  Powder  Tax. 

The  sex  has  been  guilty  of  some  of  the  most  grotesque 
Bostumes,   and  the   absurdest  of  all  was  the  hoop-petticoat, 


COSTUMES  AND  CUSTOMS.  89 

which,  gave  the  wearer  the  appearance  of  a  walking  balloon. 
There  are  many  strange  stories  as  to  its  invention  ;  probably 
It  v/as  introduced  for  the  accommodation  of  the  ladies  of  the 
court,  who  were  of  easy  virtue — such  is  the  opinion  of  good, 
judges.  Cia'taiu  it  is  that  public  sentiment  had  a  good  share 
in  driving  the  fashion  out  of  existence,  by  accusing  those  who 
chuig.  to  it  of  bad  morals.  Stiff  stays  are  out  of  fashion  in  a 
majority  of  English  society,  and  silks  are  retreating  before 
the  sublime  array  of  satins. 

The  clergy  once  were  guilty  of  wearing  as  pompous  a  cos- 
tume as  the  class  of  courtiers.  The  Reformation  wrought  a 
change,  for  vestments,  emblazoned  caps,  and  rich  embroide- 
ries, were  laid  aside.  The  mysticism  of  religion  in  the  Eng- 
lish Church  is  done  away.  In  the  olden  times  chasubles, 
dalmatics,  and  tunics,  which  were  originally  derived  from  the 
same  class  of  articles  in  kingly  attire,  were  worn  by  Protes- 
tant clergy,  but  were  finally  rejected  by  them,  and  the  style 
of  clerical  dress  became  by  degrees  more  refined  and  severe. 

English  lawyers  cling  with  an  inveterate  passion  to  the 
ancient  styles  of  legal  dress  and  etiquette,  though  it  is  now  a 
common  thing  to  see  a  member  of  the  legal  profession  wear- 
ing whiskers,  a  practice  which  was  not  allowed  in  the  olden 
time,  those  hairy  appendages  to  the  human  face  being  then 
usually  confined  to  military  gentlemen. 

Boots  and  shoes  are  generally  made  so  as  to  wear  longer 
than  ours,  but  are  also  higher  in  price.  The  extremities  are 
differently  shaped  from  ours,  and  altogether  they  are  lacking 
in  beauty  of  shape. 

An  English  woman  has  not  the  art  of  dressing  so  well  as  a 
French  woman  with  the  same  means.  She  lacks  taste.  The 
English  children  are  dressed  in  the  finest  manner.  Go  into 
the  parks  on  a  pleasant  summer  day,  and  you  will  meet  with 
hundreds  of  the  wee  things  dressed  in  Scottish  hats  and  feath- 
er, and  with  their  legs  entirely  bare.     The  English  children 


90  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

are  generally  robustly  healthy,  and,  generally  speaking,  more 
pains  are  taken  with  their  physical  education  than  with  chil- 
dren in  America. 

There  is  a  general  idea  in  America  that  clothing  is  much 
cheaper  in  England  than  here  Clothes  ot"  certain  descrip- 
tions are,  but  a  fashionable  coat  costs  as  much  in  London  as 
New  York,  and  pantaloons  more.  A  West  End  tailor  charges 
more  than  a  New  York  tailor,  but  cheap  garments  can  be 
j)iirchased,  ready  made,  with  less  money  in  England  than  in 
America. 

ENGLISH  WOMEN. 

When  we  enterea  for  the  first  time  an  English  drawing- 
room,  almost  our  first  thought  was — "  How  robust  are  the 
English  ladies  1"  and  after  much  observation  we  are  ready 
again  to  repeat  the  thought.  The  room  contained  perhaps  a 
dozen  women,  from  eighteen  to  fifty  years  of  age,  and  not  one 
among  the  number  was  sallow  or  faded,  much  less  wrinkled, 
with  age.  After  walking  in  the  leading  promenades  of  fash- 
ion  and  beauty,  we  found  it  the  same  there  ;  the  women  were 
healthy — physically  well-educated.  A  friend,  who  is  an 
American,  chanced  to  be  in  the  House  of  Lords  when  it  was 
prorogued  by  the  Q,ueen  in  person,  and  there  was  present  a 
splendid  collection  of  female  nobility — he  was  astonished  to 
Bee  such  unmistakable  health  upon  every  face. 

It  was  the  same  wherever  we  went — -in  the  lecture-room  ; 
in  the  great  hall  ;  at  the  concert,  the  theatre,  and  the  church 
—  the  appearance  of  the  vast  majority  of  the  women  indicated 
abundant  and  vigorous  health.  The  cheek  was  round,  and 
Imed  with  the  rose  ;  the  forehead  exuberant  ;  the  eye  large 
and  beautiful ;  the  chest  well  developed  ;  and — we  confess  it 
— the  feet  somewnat  large  I 

We  at  first  were  tempted  to  denominate  the  beauty  of  Eng- 
iish  women  as  gross,  but  after  thought,  could  not  do  so.     If 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  91 

pure  nature  be  gross,  if  health  be  not  refined,  then  certainly 
we  do  prefer  grossness  to  refinement.  If  illness  breeds  a  su 
perior  beauty,  then  give  to  us  the  inferior  charms  which  are 
the  offspring  of  health  I 

"  Comparisons  are  odious,"  yet  the  reader  will  excuse  us  if 
we  make  a  comparison  between  American  and  English  ivomen 
of  fashion,  on  the  simple  point  of  health  and  healthy  habits. 
The  tastes  of  the  two  classes  do  not  seem  to  agree  in  this 
matter.  In  many  of  our  ^fashionable  circles  it  is  not  the  de- 
sire of  women  to  be  in  robust  health.  If  a  young  lady  be 
languishing,  with  a  snowy  cheek  just  tinged  with  crimson,  if 
she  have  a  tremulous  voice,  she  may  expect  to  break  a  score 
of  hearts  !  For  such  a  creature  to  think  of  walking  a  mile, 
would  be  sheer  madness  I  If  she  goes  out,  it  is  in  her  softly- 
cushioned  carriage,  with  servants  to  wrap  her  carefully  av/ay 
from  the  benignant  influences  out  of  doors,  and  the  vulgar 
wind  and  sunshine  have  not  a  stray  peep  at  that  exquisite 
skin  of  hers. 

As  for  the  fields  and  flowers,  never  in  her  life  have  her  soft 
feet  danced  upon  them — yet  for  hours  she  has  waltzed  upon 
the  arm  of  some  handsome  young  navy-oflicer,  in  a  hot  dan- 
cing-assembly. ]N"ever  in  her  life  has  she  played  in  the  wild- 
wood  with  the  birds  and  flowers  ;  with  June  skies  over  her, 
and  a  June  sun  looking  into  her  open,  radiant  face  I  Never 
has  she  been  gloriously  flushed  with  exercise  got  from  chasing 
after  rare  flowers  and  plants  ;  from  climbing  to  the  summits  of 
lofty  hills — for  this  all  would  have  been  vulgar  I  Have  we 
exaggerated  the  picture  ?  Here  is  one  of  English  women  of 
fashion. 

In  England,  the  highest  ladies  exercise  much  in  the  open 
air — and  as  they  are  healthy  iu  body,  so  in  mind.  Sickly 
sentimentalism  and  a  "  rose-water  philanthropy"  which  ex- 
pends itself  over  French  romances  and  artificial  flowers,  has 
no  lot  or  portion  in  their  characters.     They  are  noble  women  ; 


92  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

and  their  children  are  worthy  of  them,  for  they  are  red 
cheeked,  of  stout  muscle  and  nimhle  gait,  of  fine  health  and 
appetite.  The  simple  reason  is,  that  English  women,  as  well 
as  children,  exercise  in  the  open  air.  An  English  woman  of 
refinement  thinks  nothing  of  walking  half  a  dozen  miles, 
nothing  of  riding  on  horseback  twenty,  nothing  even  of  leap- 
ing hedges  on  the  back  of  a  trusty  animal ! 

We  remember  once  being  at  the  home  of  William  and 
Mary  Howitt,  before  they  had  left  "  The  Elms,"  when  some 
one  proposed  that  we  should  make  a  little  family  visit  to  Ep- 
ping  Forest — distant  four  or  five  miles.  The  thought  did  not 
enter  our  brain  that  they  expected  to  go  on  foot.  As  we 
crossed  the  threshold,  we  looked  for  the  carriage,  but  the  la- 
dies said  we  were  going  a-foot,  of  course!  And  so  we  walked 
all  the  way  there,  and  rambled  over  the  beautiful  forest.  As 
we  walked  back,  we  half  expected  to  see  the  ladies  faint,  or 
drop  down  exhausted,  and  when  we  sat  down  a  moment  upon 
a  bit  of  greensward,  we  ventured  to  ask — 
"  Are  you  not  vsry  tired  ?" 

The  reply  was,  and  accompanied  by  a  m.erry  laugh, 
"  To  be  sure  not — I  could  walk  a  half-dozen  miles  yet !" 
We  were   once   conversing  with   an    English  lady  eighty 
years  old — the  mother  of  a  distinguished  author — upon  this 
excellent  habit  of  walking,  when  she  remarked — 

"  When  I  was  a  young  woman,  and  in  the  country,  I  often 
walked  ten  miles  to  meeting  of  a  Sunday  morning  I"  This 
was  the  secret  of  her  mellow  old  age.  The  English  women 
love  fl.owers,  and  also  to  cultivate  them,  and  we  know  of  no 
more  beautiful  sight  than  of  a  fair,  open-browed,  rosy-cheeked 
woman  among  a  garden  full  of  plants  and  flowers.  Talk  of 
your  merry  creatures  in  hot  drawing-rooms  "  by  the  light  of 
a  chandelier" — to  the  marines  I  Here  is  beauty  fresh  from 
God's  hand,  and  Nature's — here  are  human  flowers  and  those 
of  Nature  blooming  together. 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  93 

Mrs.  Browning,  in  "  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship,"  has  a 
b^autifa   picture  of  an  English  woman  ; — 

"  Thus,  her  foot  upon  the  new-mown  grass — bareheaded,  with  the 

flowing- 
Of  the  virginal  white  vesture  gathered  closely  to  her  throat; 
With  the  golden  ringlets  in  her  neck,  just  quickened  by  her  going, 
And  appearing  to  breathe  sun  for  air,  and  doubting  if  to  float, 

"  With  a  branch  of  dewy  maple,  which  her  right  hand  held  above  her, 
And  which  trembled,  a  green  shadow,  in  betwixt  her  and  the  skies, — 
A.S  she  turned  her  face  in  going — thus  she  drew  me  on  to  love  her, 
And  to  study  the  deep  meaning  of  the  smile  hid  in  her  eyes." 

And  again  : — 

"  And  thus,  morning  after  morning,  spite  of  oath,  and  spite  of  sorrow 
Did  I  follow  at  her  drawing,  while  the  week-days  passed  along ; 
Just  to  feed  the  swans  this  noontide,  or  to  see  the  fawns  to-morrow— 
Or  to  teach  the  hill-side  echo,  some  sweet  Tuscan  in  a  song. 

"  Aye,  and  sometimes  on  the  hill-side,  while  we  sat  down  in  the  gow- 

ans. 
With  the  forest  green  behind  us,  and  its  shadow  cast  before ; 
And  the  river  running  under;  and  across  it  from  the  rowens, 
A  brown  partridge  whirring  near  us,  till  we  felt  the  air  it  bore. 

"  There  obedient  to  her  praying,  did  I  read  aloud  the  poems 
Made  by  Tuscan  flutes." 

English  tourists  in  America  are  given  to  ridiculing  the  ex- 
cessive prudery  of  our  women,  but  we  much  prefer  that  deli- 
cate sense  of  what  is  improper  which  characterizes  American 
women.  In  this  the  English  women  of  certain  classes  are 
coarser  than  ours.  The  Continent  is  so  near  that  they  im- 
"bibe  a  certain  laxity,  not  in  their  morals,  but  in  their  modes 
of  expression,  dress,  and  manners,  which  the  best  classes  of 
American  women  would  not  tolerate.  Mrs.  Trollope  calls 
them  prudes  for  this,  but  notwithstanding  that,  we  prefer  the 


94  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

exquisite  puritj  of  mind  and  manners  to  be  found  among  oui 
women,  to  the  less  refined  habits  of  English  ladies.  There  ia 
a  beauty  also  among  the  rural  women  of  America,  which  iij 
exquisite  delicacy  is  not  rivalled  in  any  portion  of  the  world. 
But  in  the  matter  of  physical  health,  we  can  learn  a  useful 
lesson  from  Eno-land.  ^ 


BURIALS  IN  LONDON. 

We  beg  pardon  of  the  reader  for  saying  a  few  words 
upon  an  unpleasant  subject — that  of  London  burials.  We 
shall  not  give  you  pleasant  pictures  of  country  church-yards, 
with  tall  cedars  of  Lebanon  and  cypresses,  and  waving  grass 
over  the  graves — alas  !  no  ;  there  is  little  of  beauty  and 
serenity  in  London  church-yards  ! 

And  yet  the  cemeteries  are  beautiful,  but  they  are  far  bo- 
yond  the  limits  of  the  town.  There  is  beautiful  Highgate 
Cemetery — Kensal  Green  Cemetery,  and  Abney  Park — all 
pleasant  and  quiet  spots.  But  it  is  only  the  privileged  ones 
who  are  buried  in  such  places,  only  the  rich  and  powerful. 
Wealth  in  London  helps  a  man  after  death.  It  can  and  does 
lay  his  aching  bones  to  rest  in  a  quiet  spot,  it  covers  over  his 
grave  with  flowers,  and  the  songs  of  birds — is  not  that  some- 
thing ? 

The  wealthy  are  buried  here — where  are  the  poor  buried  ? 
Li  Paris,  city  burials  were  long  ago  abolished.  It  is  the 
same  in  almost  all  European  towns,  but  it  is  not  so  in  London. 
A  few  years  since,  the  subject  was  brought  before  Parliament, 
and  facts  were  elicited  which  created  great  excitement,  and 
which  resulted  in  good,  but  the  practice  still  continues  with 
some  restrictions.  We  are  the  more  determined  to  give  our 
readers  an  insight  into  this  unpleasant  subject,  as  it  is  of  great 
iinportan ce  th at  th e  inhabitants  of  A merican  cities  should ,  before 
they  become  any  older,  avoid  the  errors  of  European  cities.     We 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  95 

are  glad  that  Boston  has  her  lovely  Mount  Auburn,  New  York 
her  sweet  Greenwood  shades,  and  Philadelphia  her  Laurel 
Hill ;  and  we  hope  with  all  our  lieart,  that  in  every  city  in 
America,  cemeteries  ivithout  the  confines  of  the  town  may 
spring  up,  and  that  public  opinion  will  prevent  any  more 
burials  in  town. 

Many  times  in  our  walks  about  London  we  have  noticed 
the  grave-yards  attached  to  the  various  churches,  for  in  almost 
every  case,  they  are  elevated  considerably  above  the  level  of 
the  sidewalk,  and  in  some  instances,  five  or  six  feet  above  it. 
The  reason  was  clear  enough — it  was  an  accumulation  for 
years  of  human  dust,  and  that  too  in  the  centre  of  the  largest 
city  in  the  world. 

We  soon  made  the  discovery  that  the  burial  business  (we 
beg  of  the  reader  not  to  be  shocked",  for  we  tell  the  unvar- 
nished truth)  was  a  thieving  trade  in  London,  a  speculation 
into  which  many  enter,  and  a  great  profit  to  the  proprietors 
of  the  city  churches,  whether  State  or  Dissenting.  Upon 
reading  authorities,  we  were  thunderstruck  at  the  state  of 
things  only  three  or  four  years  since,  and  which  are  now  only 
slightly  improved.  Extra  cautions  were  taken  during  the 
cholera  year,  but  since,  matters  have  been  allowed  to  take  the 
old  and  accustomed  channels. 

The  facts  which  we  state  are  but  too  trite.  They  Avere 
sworn  to  by  men  to  be  trusted,  before  a  Committee  of  tlio 
House  of  Commons,  appointed  by  that  body  to  search  into  this 
horrible  burial  trade. 

St.  Martin's  Church,  measuring  295  feet  by  379,  in  the 
course  of  ten  years  received  14,000  bodies  !  St,  Mary's,  in 
the  region  of  the  Strand,  and  covering  only  half  an  acre,  has 
by  fair  computation  during  fifty  years  received  20,000  bodies 
Was  ever  anything  heard  of  more  frightful  ?  But  hear 
this  :  two  men  built,  as  a  mere  speculation,  a  Methodist 
Church   in    New    Kent  Road,    and    in  a  mammoth  vault 


96  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

beneath  the  floor  of  that  church,  40  yards  long,  25  wide, 
and  20  high,  2000  bodies  were  found,  7iot  buried,  but  piled 
up  in  coffins  of  wood  one  upon  the  other.  This  in  all  con- 
science IS  horrible  enough,  but  seems  quite  tolerable  in  com- 
parison with  another  case. 

A  church,  called  Enon  Chapel,  was  built  some  twenty 
years  ago,  by  a  ministei',  as  a  speculation,  in  Clement's  Lane 
in  the  Strand,  close  on  to  that  busiest  thoroughfare  in  the 
world.  He  opened  the  npper  part  for  the  worship  of  God, 
and  devoted  the  lower — separated  from  the  upper  merely  by 
a  board  floor — to  the  burial  of  the  dead.  In  this  place,  60 
feet  by  2^  and  6  dee2'),  12,000  bodies,  have  been  interred! 
It  was  dangerous  to  sit  in  the  church  ;  faintings  occurred 
every  day  in  it,  and  sicknes=;,  and  for  some  distance  about  it, 
life  was  not  safe.  And  yet  people  not  really  knowing  the 
.state  of  things,  never  thought  of  laying  anything  to  the  vault 
under  the  chapel. 

But  perhaps  the  reader  will  exercise  his  arithmetical 
powers,  and  say  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  bury  12,000 
persons  in  so  small  a  place,  within  twenty  years.  He  dees 
not  understand  the  manner  in  which  the  speculating  parson 
managed  his  aiTairs,  It  came  out  before  the  Committee  of 
the  House  of  Commons,  that  aixty  loads  of  "  mingled  dirt  and 
human  remains"  were  carted  away  from  the  vault  at  diifer- 
<jnt  times,  and  thrown  into  the  Thames  the  other  side  of 
Waterloo  Bridge.  Once  a  portion  of  a  load  fell  off  in  the 
sireet,  and  the  crowd  picked  up  out  of  it  a  human  skull.  It 
was  no  longer  safe  to  cart  away  the  remains,  and  yet  the 
reverend  speculator  could  not  afTord  to  lose  his  fine  income 
from  the  burials,  and  so  his  ever-busy  intellect  invented  a 
novel  mode  of  getting  rid  of  the  bodies — he  used  great  quan- 
tities of  quicklime !  But  quicklime  would  not  devour  coffins, 
and  so  they  were  split  up  and  burnt  m  secret  by  the  owner 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  9*7 

of  the  chapel.  Several  witnesses  swore  to  this  before  the 
Committee.     Said  one  of  them  : 

"  I  have  seen  the  man  and  his  wife  burn  them  ;  it  is  quite 
a  common  thing." 

It  may  be  said  that  this  state  of  things  has  passed  away — 
but  such  is  not  the  fact.  We  have  ourselves  looked  into  an 
open  grave  which  was  filled  up  with  coffins  to  within  a  foot 
of  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  tlT?it  too  within  ten  rods  of 
one  of  the  busiest  streets  in  London.  A  friend  of  ours  as- 
sured, us  he  has  witnessed  of  late,  things  quite  as  horrible  as 
any  that  were  related  before  the  Committee  of  the  House  of 
Commons. 

It  was  proved  that  very  many  of  the  churches  in  London 
were  in  the  habit  of  carting  away  the  remains  of  bodies  at 
intervals  to  make  room  for  the  later  dead.  St,  Martin's,  in 
Ludgate,  St.  Anne's,  in  Soho,  St.  Clement's,  in  Portugal- 
street,  and  many  others  were  proved  guilty  of  the  practice. 

W.  Chamberlain,  grave-digger  at  St.  Clement's,  testified 
that  the  ground  was  so  full  of  bodies  that  he  could  not  make 
a  new  grave  "  without  coming  into  other  graves."     He  said  : 

"  We  have  come  to  bodies  quite  perfect,  and  we  have  cut 
parts  away  with  choppers  and  pickaxes.  We  have  opened 
the  lids  of  coffins,  and  the  bodies  have  been  so  perfect  that 
we  could  distinguish  males  from  females  ;  and  all  those  have 
been  chopped  and  cut  up.  During  the  time  I  was  at  this 
work,  the  flesh  has  been  cut  up  in  pieces  and  thrown  up  be- 
hind the  boards  which  are  placed  to  keep  the  ground  up 
where  the  mourners  are  standing — and  when  the  mourners 
are  gone  this  flesh  has  been  thrown  in  and  jammed  down, 
and  the  coffins  taken  away  and  burnt." 

An  assistant  grave-digger  testified  that,  happening  to  see 

his  companion  one  day  chopping  ofi^  the  head  of  a  coffin,  he 

flaw  that  it  was  his  own  father's  !     Another  digger  testified 

that  bodies  were   often  cut    through  when   they  had  been 

^  7 


98  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

burled  only  three  weeks.  Another  testified  to  things  more 
horrible  than  ever  Dante  saw  in  hell.  He  says  :  "  One  day 
I  was  trying-  the  length  of  a  grave  to  see  if  it  was  long  and 
wide  enough,  and  while  I  was  there  the  ground  gave  way, 
and  a  body  turned  right  over,  and  the  two  arms  came  and 
clasped  me  round  the  neck  I" 

We  beg  the  pardon  of  the  reader  for  relating  such  horrible 
facts — but  they  occurred  in  London,  and  the  cities  and  towns 
of  America  may  well  profit  by  them.  There  need  not  be 
Buch  terrible  curses  attending  a  crowded  state  of  population, 
but  such  will  be  the  case  eventually  in  our  own  towns  unless 
we  take  warning, 

When  one  thinks  of  the  thousands  in  London  who  must 
look  forward  to  a  burial  in  the  pent-up  church-yards  in  the 
city,  it  makes  the  heart  ache.  To  think  of  burying  a  kind 
mother  so — of  following  a  dear  sister  to  such  a  grave  I  Yet 
thousands  from  poverty  must  do  so. 

Contrast  with  such  spots  the  swe<;t  though  lovely  burial- 
grounds  in  the  country,  with  its  tall  cedars,  its  solemn  cy- 
presses, and  its  grassy  mounds,  over  which  affection  lingers 
and  weeps.  The  church-spire  is  old  and  kindly  in  its  look, 
the  breezes  are  solemn  and  pure — oh  the  contrast  I 

We  once  made  a  delightful  journey  into  an  old  and  ancient 
part  of  England  with  a  friend,  going  on  foot  miles  away 
from  the  line  of  railway  in  a  quiet  old  village,  which  seemed 
a  thousand  years  old.  The  reader  can  hardly  imagine  the 
quaintness  of  everything  there — the  sweet  quietness  which 
brooded  over  the  neglected  spot.  After  a-  meal  by  ourselves 
in  the  ancient  inn  of  the  place,  we  wandered  out  into  the 
village  streets  and  over  the  fields.  The  j^ec/j/e  seemed  old 
and  quaint,  but  the  beauty  of  the  hills  and  valleys  we  never 
saw  surpassed.  Wandering  at  will  we  at  length  came  to 
the  village  church  and  burial-ground.  The  church  stood 
JL  the  midst  of  a  field  of  graves,  and  was  nearly  covered 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  1)9 

with  green  runners  and  vines.  There  were  ancient  tombs 
grassed  over  and  mossed  over  by  centuries  ;  there  were  cedars 
of  Lebanon,  and  solemn  cypresses,  and  flowers,  and  all  that 
is  holy  and  beautiful.  We  entered  the  little  gate  and  walked 
slowly  from  tomb  to  toinb,  reading  the  solemn  inscriptions 
with  chastened  thoughts.  The  sun  was  almost  down,  but 
shone  with  a  solemn  splendor  upon  the  spot,  and  the  grave- 
stones cast  long  shadows  to  the  eastward.  We  could  hear 
faintly  in  the  distance  the  murmurs  of  a  waterfall,  and  the 
music  seemed  plaintive  there.  There  was  no  music,  no  eager 
life,  but  the  spirit  of  holy  Cluiet  was  there.  Gradually  the 
shadows  grew  longer,  until  at  last  the  burning  sun  dropt 
down  behind  the  western  hills,  and  the  church-yard  M'as  in 
gloom. 

A  gentle  south  wind  sprung  up  among  the  Lebanon  cedars 
in  tones  of  sorrow ;  the  tall  grass  M'^aved  to  and  fro  over  the 
graves,  and  so  like  the  close  of  a  good  man's  life  closed  the 
day. 

A.nd  that  spot  is  a  place  where  one  could  love  to  weep 
over  a  dear,  departed  friend.  There,  among  the  flowers  and 
branches,  sunshine  and  shadows,  one  could  rest  over  a  moth- 
er's or  a  sister's  grave,  and  look  forward  to  a  home  there,  as  a 
place  where  to 

"  Wrap  the  drapery  of  his  couch  around  him, 
And  lie  down  to  pleasant  dreams." 

THE  COUNTRY. 

The  beauty  of  the  country  portions  of  England,  and  espe- 
cially those  which  surround  London,  cannot  be  too  much  ex- 
tolled. There  is  a  serenity  in  it,  a  holy  sweetness,  which 
charms  one  like  music.  There  is  great  diflerence  in  locali- 
ties, but  whether  one  rambles  in  the  region  of  London,  or 
along  the  valley  of  the  Wye,  or  among  the  hills  of  Derby- 


]00  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

shire,  it  matters  not — he  is  sure  of  being  entranced.  By  na- 
ture England  was  not  possessed  of  extraordinary  charms,  but 
Industry  has  made  it  what  it  is.  Every  acre  is  cultivated, 
and  cultivated  thoroughly.  The  hills  are  covered  with  the 
ichest  A^erdure,  the  valleys  teem  with  golden  acres  of  cropa, 
with  tall,  ancient  trees,  and  gentle  streams,  and  birds  which 
sing  with  wonderful  sweetness.  Old  castles,  haunted  with 
delightful  reminiscences,  quaint  legends,  and  historical  truths, 
are  scattered  over  the  country  everywhere,  and  the  farm- 
houses possess  the  prettiest  farmers'  daughters  ever  seen. 

It  is  true  that  an  American  cannot  forget  w^hile  among  such 
delicious  beauty,  the  utter  wretchedness  which  is  scattered 
among  it.  Close  by  magnificent  parks,  containing  thousands 
of  acres  of  the  richest  soil,  devoted  to  deer,  and  trees,  ^ind  all 
that  is  charming  and  exquisite,  there  are  men  and  women  and 
little  children  starving.  Let  beauty,  voluptuousness,  and  luxury, 
never  exist  at  the  expense  of  humanity  I  The  nobles  of  Eng- 
land are  so  accustomed  to  that  which  shocks  us,  that  they  do 
not  appear  to  notice  the  horrible  contrast  which  lies  in  full 
view  of  their  hall  windows.  Their  system  causes  the  poverty 
and  wretchedness  around  them,  and  they  ease  their  consciences 
in  a  devotion  to  Beauty  and  Art  I 

The  country  churches  with  their  grave-yards  are  the  sad- 
dest, sweetest  places  in  the  world.  There  is  none  of  that  bar- 
barous taste  exhibited,  which  distinguishes  certain  portions  of 
America.  We  have  Greenwood,  and  Auburn,  but  in  how 
many  of  our  villages  and  country  towns  are  the  burial-places 
a  disgrace  to  a  civilized  people.  How  it  makes  one  shudder 
to  pass  by  such  spots,  and  think  that  in  them  sleep  the  forms 
of  those  once  dear,  and  that  the  friends  left  to  mourn  them 
manifest  no  care  of  their  last  resting-place. 

Wc  slopped  at  sunset  once  to  see  the  burial-place  of  an- 
cient Wendover,  and  as  we  rested,  the  lines  of  Mrs.  Brown* 
ing,  in  the  "  Duchess  May,"  came  to  mind ; 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  101 

"  Ii  the  belfi-y,  one  by  one,  went  the  ringers  from  tlie  sun-— 

T>ill  dindy ! 
Six  abeles  i'  the  kirk-yard  grow  on  the  north  side  in  a  row,— - 

jyi  sloidy  I 
And  the  shadows  of  their  tops  rock  across  the  little  slopes 

Of  the  grassy  graves  below. 
On  the  south  side,  and  the  west,  a  small  river  runs  in  haste,—- 

Toll  slowly! 
And  between  the  river  flowing,  and  the  foir  green  trees  a-growing 

Do  the  dead  lie  at  their  rest. 
On  the  east  I  sat  that  day,  up  against  a  willow  gray— 

Toll  sloidy  I 
Through  the  rain  of  willow-branches  I  could  see  the  low  hill-ranges, 

And  the  river  on  its  way. 
There  I  sat  beneath  the  tree,  and  the  bell  tolled  solemnly, — 

Tali  slowly! 
While  the  trees  and  river's  voices  tlowed  between  the  solemn  noises- 
Yet  Death  seemed  more  loud  to  me." 

Not  far  from  London  there  are  many  beautiful  suburban 
villages  to  which  a  denizen  of  the  city  can  easily  go.  One 
afternoon  ,of  May,  just  at  night,  with  a  friend,  we  started  for 
a  little  country  excursion.  Just  as  we  arrived  at  the  wharf, 
below  London  Bridge,  a  crier  on  board  one  of  the  many  steam- 
ers in  sight,  sung  out,  "  Passengers  for  Greenwich  and  below  !'' 
and  as  we  wished  to  go  "'  below,"  we  hastily  jumped  aboard. 
It  was  one  of  the  tiniest  boats  imaginable,  and  looked  hardly 
capacious  enough  to  carry  the  passengers  on  her  deck — as  for 
officers,  there  didn't  seem  to  be  many.  The  captain  stood  on 
the  Mdieel-houFC,  which  was  about  the  size  of  a  western  cheese- 
box,  and  motioned  to  the  man  at  the  wheel,  in  the  stern  of 
the  boat,  which  way  to  steer.  Whenever  he  gave  out  an 
order  or  warning,  which  was  done  in  a  sublime  bass,  a  little 
boy  shrieked  it  over  in  treble  to  the  engineer  below.  The 
captain  shouted  gruffly  "■  All  aboard  !''  the  young  one  exe- 
cuted his  shrill  echo — the  little  paddle-wheels  began  to  turn, 
and  we   were  shooting  off  into  the  centre  of  the  stream. 


102  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

There  were  many  passengers  on  board,  and  it  was  not 
difficult  to  discover  from  dress  or  action  their  various  con- 
ditions. Some  of  them  were  clerks,  who,  after  a-  laborious 
day's  work,  were  going  down  to  Greenwich  to  sleep,  for 
i  ealth's  sake  ;  others  were  men  of  capital,  going  to  their 
ft  )lendid  homes  down  the  river,  where  famous  dinners  wt^re 
awaiting  them  ;  it  was  too  late  for  the  pleasure-seekers.  At 
every  place  where  our  boat  touched,  some  one  or  more  of  our 
pprty  deserted  the  boat  — and  now  our  turn  was  come,  tho 
little  steamer  touched  land  for  us,  we  gave  up  our  tickets  and 
landed  in  a  small  village  in  the  midst  of  the  glorious  country. 
There  was  a  hill  away  at  the  left,  and  as  the  sun  was  only 
half  an  hour  high,  we  ran  for  it.  Half  our  time  was  lost  in 
gaining  its  summit,  but  the  view  amply  repaid  us  for  our 
trouble.  The  sunset  was  inferior  every  way  to  hundreds  we 
have  seen  in  America,  but  the  landscape  was  the  loveliest  we 
ever  had  seen. 

We  were  in  Surrey,  and  its  soft  undulations  l^y  before  us 
like  the  swells  of  the  sea.  Hamlets,  hedges,  farm-houses  and 
cottage-homes  were'  scattered  at  our  feet.  The  village  green 
was  below  in  full  view,  and  out  upon  it  were  boys  and  girls 
shouting  for  very  happiness.  Hov/  different  their  voices  to 
the  voices  of  the  children  in  London  streets  !  Around  the 
farm-houses  the  quiet  cows  were  gathered,  and  the  milkmaids 
were  at  their  work.  Every  field  was  fringed  with  a  beautiful 
r  i},^e,  and  every  garden  bloomed  with  choice  flowers.  Their 
fragrance  came  up  the  hill  to  us  on  the  soft  breeze  that  was 
playing.  There  was  also  some  new-mowii  hay  near  us,  which 
sent  up  its  pleasant  odor  for  our  enjoyment.  The  breeze 
came  fitfully,  never  strong,  and  often  dying  away  completely  ; 
at  such  times,  with  not  a  leaf  trembling,  and  the  full,  bright 
Bun  going  to  rest  behind  the  trees,  the  scene  was  a  perfect  pic- 
ture of  happy  peace.  No  rude  noise  startled  us  ;  the  music 
of  a  tiny  stream  touched  our  ears  pleasantly  ;  there  were  no 


COSTUMES  AND  CUSTOMS.  103 

harsh  London  noises  ;  no  dismal  sights  and  noxious  scents  ;  nc 
whining  mendicants  or  flaunting  prostitutes. 

The  sun  had  now  set,  but  lo  I  the  full  moon  arose  in  the 
east,  promising  an  evening  of  great  beauty. 

We  now  descended  the  hill,  and  entered  a  quaint  little  inn 
and  asked  for  tea  and  toast.  The  little  room  that  we  had  it 
in  looked  out  upoa  the  west,  which  was  all  moonlit,  and  there 
we  sat  and  talked,  and  sipped  our  tea. 

Once  more  we  were  out  in  the  open  air,  with  the  moon- 
light pale  and  tender  falling  down  upon  us,  instead  of  the 
rays  of  the  sun.  We  took  a  path  into  the  fields,  though  the 
dew  was  heavy  upon  the  grass,  and  wandered  away  among 
the  trees  and  out  on  the  hills.  We  soon  came  in  view  of' 
an  old  English  castle,  deserted  now,  but  once  inhabited  by 
princes. 

The  influence  of  the  moonlight  must  have  been  magical, 
for  we  existed  for  a  time  in  the  past  ;  and  from  the  windows 
of  the  castle  streamed  the  light  of  a  thousand  lamps,  and  the 
sound  of  dancing  reached  our  ears.  There  were  princes  there, 
and  earls  ;  queens  of  beauty  and  grace,  with  the  blood  of 
kings  coursing  in  their  veins.  As  we  approached  the  ruined 
building,  a  rabbit  leaped  out  from  his  hiding-place,  and 
brought  our  thoughts  from  the  past  to  the  present,  and  after 
gazing  awhile  at  the  ruins,  we  passed  on  to  the  stream  that 
had  tinkled  its  music  so  pleasantly  in  our  ears,  and  sat  down 
n  the  little  bridge  v/hich  crossed  it.  And  the  present  seemed 
more  beautiful  than  the  past.  Those  days  so  fraught  with 
chivalric  deeds  were  after  all  bereft  of  true  humanities. 
Their  happiness  was  a  hollow  one.  The  lords  and  ladies 
might  enjoy  the  moonlight,  but  the  peasants  were  chattels. 
Perhaps  a  noble  earl  occasionally  ran  daring  risks  for  the 
hand  of  some  fair  and  titled  lady,  but  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
break  the  heart  of  a  peasant's  only  daughter. 

But  the  evening  was  gone,  and  we  ran  over  the  fields  to  a 


104  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

railway  station  and  in  a  few  moments  were  whirling  back  to 
London,  to  spend  the  night  at  an  English  home.  And  a  true 
English  home  is  as  sweet  and  beautiful  a  place  as  a  Mahome- 
tan conld  wish  for  his  paradise  !  It  exhibits  tnat  exquisite 
finish,  which  is  the  consequence  of  culti\ration.  When  we 
gpe  ik  of  an  English  home,  we  mean  a  home  among  the  select 
mid  he  classes,  not  among  noblemen  or  working-men,  for 
am'  ag  the  former,  there  is  hoUow-heartedness,  and  abject 
devotion  to  mere  conventionalities — a  disgusting  pride  of  blood, 
wealth  an^  connections.  And  were  we  to  describe  the  homes 
of  the  latter — the  toiling  laborers  of  England — we  should 
picture  broken  casements,  expiring  fires,  haggard  eountenance&, 
and  young  children  crying  for  bread. 


ENGLISH  HOMES. 

ySit  we  choose  now  to  describe — • 

"  The  7)urry  homes  of  England  !— 
Around  their  hearths  by  night, 
What  gladsome  looks  of  household  love 
Meet  in  the  ruddy  light ! 
There  woman's  voice  flows  forth  in  song, 
Or  childhood's  tale  is  told, 
Or  lips  move  tunefully  along 
Some  glorious  page  of  old." 

In  the  English  heart  there  is  a  deep  love  of  quiet,  ealm 
enjoyments,  and  home  joys — this  is  the  reason  why  the 
English  home  is  so  lovable.  Unlike  the  French,  they  are  not 
suited  with  an  eternal  round  of  festivities,  balls,  or  theatrical 
amusements.  The  Frenchman  lives  continually  abroad,  and 
scarcely  at  all  at  home.  In  England  the  holidays,  even 
in  London,  have  a  rural  tinge.  When  the  Frenchman  would 
rush  to  the  Boulevards.,  the  more  quiet  and  sedate  EngliMh- 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  105 

man  gathers  his  children  about  him,  and  goes  to  spend  the 
day  at  Eppiug  Forest,  Gravesend,  or  Kerr  Gardens.  It  would 
be  no  jleasnre  for  him  to  wander  over  the  fashionable  walks 
of  the  city,  but  away  from  the  crowd,  in  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  he  indulges  in  the  height  of  felicity. 

AmoDg  the  middle  classes  in  England,  or  perhaps  we  should 
say  the  upper-middle,  there  is  no  degree  of  want,  but  rather 
profusion  of  all  that  can  minister  to  the  respectable  appetites 
of  mankind.  The  house,  the  grounds,  the  situation  and  pros- 
pect are  nearly  perfect  We  have  seen  many  Enghsh  homes 
and  never  for  once  came  away  from  one  without  an  enthusi 
astic  admiration  of  the  sweet  garden  in  which  it  pleasantly 
nestled.     Painting  ministers  to  the  eye,  and  music  to  the  ear. 

In  the  morning  at  nine  the  father  sits  down  cosily  with  his 
family  to  his  dry  toast  and  coffee,  his  morning  newspaper  and 
family  letters,  devouring  them  all  together.  The  Times 
with  fresh  news  from  all  quarters  of  the  world  lies  open  before 
him,  and  the  "  resonant  steam  eagles"  have  been  flying  all 
night  that  he  may  read  his  letters  with  his  morning  meal. 
He  then  starts  for  his  counting-house,  or  his  office,  and  with  a 
luncheon  at  mid-day  satisfies  his  appetite  until  the  dinner- 
hour — which  is  at  four,  five,  or  six,  as  circumstances  may 
be — when  he  dines  with  his  family  around  him. 

Tea  is  served  at  seven,  a  simple  but  generally  a  very  joyous 
meal.     Supper  is  ready  at  nine  or  ten,  of  which  the  childre 
never  partake. 

A  true  English  home  is  intelligent,  educated,  and  full  of 
love.  All  that  Painting,  Sculpture  and  Poetry,  can  do  to 
beautify  it,  is  done,  and  Music  lingers  in  it  as  naturally  as 
suiishine  in  a  dell.  Those  who  say  the  English  are  not 
a  hospitable,  frank,  generous  people,  know  nothing  of  their 
inner  life.  A  railway  ride  across  from  Liverpool  to  Paris, 
reveals  nothing  of  the  character  of  the  people.  It  is  a  part 
of  their  system  of  conventionalities  to  preserve  a  cool  exterioi 

E* 


106  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

when  in  the  business  world.  Take  these  very  men  at  home 
and  the  transition  is  almost  miraculous.  The  knitted  brow 
is  smoothed  with  smiles,  and  the  silent  tongue  has  become 
voluble  with  joy.  And  the  influence  of  the  English  homes 
upon  the  children — is  it  not  visible  over  the  world  ?  Those 
eveniiig  joys  never  are  forgotten,  but  in  the  time  of  tempta- 
tion, gather  about  the  heart  of  youth,  like  a  group  of  angels, 
guarduig  it  from  all  sin. 

"  By  the  gathering  round  the  winter  hearth, 
When  twilight  called  unto  winter  mirth  ; 
By  the  fairy  tale  or  legend  old 
In  that  ring  of  happy  faces  told  ; 
By  the  quiet  hour  when  hearts  unite 
In  the  parting  prayer,  and  kind  good-night ; 
By  the  smiling  eye  and  loving  tone, 
Over  their  life  has  a  spell  been  thrown. 
It  hath  brought  the  wanderer  o'er  the  seas 
To  die  on  the  hills  of  his  own  fresh  breeze; 
And  back  to  the  gates  of  his  father's  hall, 
It  hath  led  the  weeping  prodigal." 


CHRISTMAS. 

Christmas  is  the  best  of  the  London  Holidays,  being  more 
universally  observed  than  any  other.  The  last  Christmas 
was  our  second  Christmas  in  London,  and  the  last  was  exactly 
ike  the  first.  The  same  bustle  in  all  the  markets,  the  same 
preparations  everywhere  ;  loaded  railway  trains,  with  game 
and  poultry  from  the  country. 

Perhaps  a  week  before  Christmas,  we  noticed  that  all  the 
markets  began  to  increase  in  the  quantity  and  quality  of  their 
stoves,  and  in  front  of  them  all,  green  branches  of  holly  were 
hung  as  emblems  of  the  coming  holiday.  The  game  shops 
were  full  of  pheasants,  rabbits,  and  venison  ;  the  confec- 
tioners exhibited  a  richer  than  usual  assortment  of  saccha'- 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  107 

fine  toys  ;  at  the  book-shops,  Christmas  presents  began  to 
appear,  consisting  of  every  variety  of  beautiful  books.  As 
the  day  approached,  all  these  shops,  in  fact  all  the  shops 
of  whatever  kind,  increased  in  the  splendor  and  quantity 
of  their  wares ;  the  very  countenances  of  the  people  in  the 
streets  were  brighter  than  usual,  and  the  rose  was  deeper 
on  more  than  one  young  maiden's  cheek,  as  she  thought  that 
on  the  coming  festival-day,  she  would  bid  farewell  forever 
,0  maidenhood.  For  the  day  is  renowned  for  its  weddings 
throughout  England.  The  reason  being,  we  suppose,  because 
of  the  festivities  everywhere  which  fall,  in  the  case  of  a  wed- 
ding, naturally  around  the  parties  as  if  in  their  honor,  as  well 
as  in  honor  of  Christmas. 

The  day  preceding  Christmas,  the  whole  of  London  seemed 
to  be  engaged  in  purchasing  the  wherewithal  to  enliven  and 
adorn  the  next.  Then,  indeed,  the  shops  did  look  as  if  utterly 
incapable  of  containing  their  treasures,  and  from  top  to  bottom, 
were  lined  with  sprigs  of  laurel,  and  box,  and  pine,  and  holly  ! 
Then  the  windows  of  the  confectionery-shops  displayed  most 
gorgeous  sights  for  young  and  eager  eyes.  In  the  book-shops 
Cruikshank  and  Doyle,  Thackeray  and  Punch,  had  scattered 
a  thousand  laughable  books  and  pictures,  as  if  to  make  the 
people  laugh  during  the  holidays,  whether  they  wished  to  do 
0  or  not ! 

The  streets  on  Christmas  Eve  were  one  continuous  blaze  of 
show  and  ornament.  From  Piccadilly  to  Whitechapel  the 
bells  rung,  and  the  people  flocked  to  the  churches.  For  a 
week  previous  to  Christmas-day,  the  weather  had  been  black 
and  foggy,  full  of  rain,  and  mud,  and  hypochondria,  but 
Christmas  morning  the  sun  rose  to  gaze  all  day  long  down 
upon  the  pleasant  earth.  The  sky  was  blue  and  serene,  the 
weather  mild,  and  the  chimes  of  the  bells,  ringing  out  against 
the  sunshine,  seemed  to  fill  the  air  with  joy.  Every  shop 
was  shut  like  the  Sabbath,  but  the  streets  were  full  of  happy 


108  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

faces  flocking  to  and  from  tlie  churches,  or  wandering  in  the 
streets  to  sharpen  their  appetites  for  the  Christmas  dinner. 
At  all  the  Unions,  or  poor-houses,  the  inmates  had  pudding, 
roast-beef,  and  porter — happy  day  for  the  poor  v/retches  ;  it 
was  the  only  day  of  the  year  when  they  could  taste  of  a  lux- 
ury, and  they  swung  their  hats  in  honor  of  "  merry  Christ- 
mas." 

After  noon  the  streets  began  to  grow  thin,  and  M'ith  a  friend 
we  left  town  to  eat  onr  Christmas  dinner  among  the  trees 
Christmas  in  the  country!  The  very  thought  of  it  makes 
the  heart  glow  with  pleasure.  It  conjures  up  such  sights  of 
fairy  children  v/ith  laughing  eyes  and  crimson  cheeks,  and 
home-joys  and  pleasures  ! 

It  made  our  hearts  beat  fast  with  pleasure  to  stand  upon 
the  gref^n  grass  and  look  into  the  pleasant  sky,  and  hear  the 
few  lingering  birds  sieg  — to  run  races  with  children,  and  re- 
call the  time  v*^hen  we  were  young  and  ran  races  with  ou? 
fellows  in  America  ! 

'And  when  at  last  v/e  all  gathered  around  that  groaning 
table,  fair  faces  and  manly  faces,  yet  each  one  full  of  Christ- 
mas smiles,  and  with  pleasant  converse  and  laughing  humor 
tasted  the  viands  it  supported,  it  indeed  seemed  that  Christ- 
mas in  England  was  a  happy  festival. 

And  when,  the  dinner  past,  the  shutters  were  drawn,  and 
the  fire  blazed  bright  in  the  grate,  when  we  drew  our  chairs 
before  it,  and  in  the  flickering  fire-light  one  after  another  told 
stories  of  perils  on  sea  and  land,  or  of  pale  and  shadowy 
£^"hosts,  so  that  in  the  dim  and  shadowy  corners  of  the  draw- 
ing-room the  shadows  from  the  Are  seemed  to  be  ghosts  of 
departed  days — we  said,—"  Merry,  merry  Christmas !" 

And  v/hen  by  a  mere  touch,  all  the  room  looked  brilliant 
as  noonday,  and  the  evening  plays  came  on,  and  we  thought 
of  all  the  pantomimes  at  the  theatres  that  night — we,  choos- 
ing to  remain  in  the  presence  of  such  natural  joys  and  pleag" 


COSTUMES    AND    CUSTOMS.  109 

ares  rather  than  to  go  to  Drury  Lane  or  Covent  Garden — 
when  we  looked  into  the  happy,  loving  eyes  of  those  around 
us,  and  saw  how  calmly  joyous  were  all  in  that  room  ; — and 
when  at  last  we  were  in  our  chamber  ibr  sleep,  and  our  head 
lay  on  a  soft  pillow,  we  thought — last  thought  before  going 
to  sleep  ! — may  we  never  forget  the  English  Christmas — nor 
Palatine  Cottage  ! 

But  the  next  morning — what  a  change  !  The  day  after 
Christmas  is  a  joyful  day  for  menials,  and  a  provoking  on 
for  everybody  else.  It  is  a  day  for  "  Christmas  boxes."  Ou 
that  day  every  person  who  has  during  the  previous  year  served 
you  in  any  capacity  almost,  will  present  himself,  tip  his  hat, 
and  say — 

"  Christmas  box,  please,  sir  1"  expecting  you  to  make  him 
a  present  of  money.  The  custom  is  such  an  old  one  that  few 
care  to  disobey  it,  but  to  an  American  in  London  it  is  a  dis- 
agreeable usage.  When  the  paper-carrier  left  at  our  apart- 
ments a  morning  copy  of  The  Times,  instead  of  allowing  the 
servant  to  bring  it  to  us,  as  usual,  he  made  his  own  appear- 
ance at  our  breakfast-room  door,  and  doffing  his  hat  said— » 
"  Christmas  box,  please,  sir  I"  There  was  no  resisting  his 
demand,  and  our  purse  v/as  made  thinner  hy  his  call.  In  a 
few  moments  the  postman  made  his  appearance,  made  a  like 
demand,  with  like  success.  An  hour  later  and  the  coalman 
v/ished  his  Christmas  box  ;  still  later  the  laundress  hers,  until 
at  night  we  found  no  silver  left  in  our  purse. 

Some  merchants  present  the  postman  with  a  Christmas 
box  of  a  guinea,  or  five  dollars.  All  clerks  in  large  establish 
ments  expect  ti  he  treated  in  a  like  manner.  There  is  a  dis 
position,  however,  in  high  quarters,  to  discontinue  the  practice. 
The  government,  it  is  said,  will  no  longer  allow  the  postman 
to  demand  or  ask  for  any  Christmas  boxes,  and  many  large 
mercantile  houses  have  resolved  not  to  obey  so  senseless  a 
usage  any  longer. 


110  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

The  custom  of  feeing  servants  at  hotels  is  another  usage  ol 
England  which  is  especially  vexatious  to  a  foreigner.  Not 
BO  much  because  of  the  expensiveness  of  the  practice  as  of  the 
indeliniteness  of  the  sum  expected.  A  stranger  knows  not 
how  much  the  servants  expect  for  a  fee.  London  waiters 
expect  more  than  those  of  Liverpool,  and  there  is  no  regu- 
larity over  the  kingdom  in  the  amount  charged  in  fees  by  the 
servants,  in  similar  situations.  The  American  knows  not  how 
much  to  give,  and  fearing  tc  offend,  generally  gives  altogethe? 
too  much. 


CHAPTEE  VI 

ENGLISH   POVERTif. 

SPITALFIELDS. 

The  West  End  of  London  is  the  residence  of  the  wealthy 
and  noble ;  the  central  portions  are  principally  occupied  by 
men  of  business  ;  and  the  East  End  is  the  abode  of  the  poor 
and  wretched.  The  stranger  who  has  entered  London  from 
the  West,  can  scarcely  believe,  after  a  residence  among  the 
princely  dwellings  and  palaces  of  Belgravia,  that  there  is  a 
quarter  in  London  like  that  called  Spitalfields,  and  when  he 
sees  it  fbi  the  first  time,  he  is  astonished  above  measure. 
When  we  lirst  gazed  at  the  destitution  and  horrible  wretched- 
ness of  Spitalfields,  our  blood  ran  cold  at  the  sight,  and  when- 
ever we  hear  the  great  English  metropohs  eulogized  as  the 
residence  of  princes  in  wealth,  and  nobility,  Ave  think  of 
ome  of  the  sights  which  our  eyes  have  witnessed,  among 
hose  parts  where  the  poorer  classes  herd  together,  and  which 
we  never  can  efface  from  our  memory. 

There  is  a  vast  population  lying  east  of  Bishopsgate-strcet, 
and  in  wretchedness  it  may  safely  challenge  a  comparison  with 
any  people,  or  class,  or  nation  under  the  sun.  Spitalfields,  the 
region  of  Bethnal  Green,  and  Whitechapel,  all  centre  together, 
making  a  vast  area  wholly  occupied  by  poor  people.  The 
first-mentioned  quarter,  Spitalfields,  is  the  residence  of  the 
poorest  of  the  poor.  In  it  the  buildings  are  low  and  black— 
the  interiors  small,  ill-ventilated,  but  crowded  ;  and  the  streets 


112  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

almost  too  disgusting  to  describe.  In  traversing  them,  one  is 
assailed  by  the  most  noxious  stenches,  and  the  most  disagree- 
able sights.  This  region  is  no  small  part  of  London — not  a 
mere  Five  Points  which  occupies  a  small  space — it  is  the  res- 
idence of  the  laboring  population  of  London  ;  there  are  hun- 
dreds of  thousands  of  men,  women,  and  children  in  it ;— some 
just  raised  above  utter  wretchedness  ;  others  utterly  wretched. 
That  many  of  these  people  are  without  principle  and  virtue, 
must  be  evident  from  the  fact  that,  in  London  there  is  an  im 
mense  number  of  thieves  and,  prostitutes — the  latter  unfortu- 
nate class  alone  numbering  about  80,000. 

Among  the  laboring  people  of  London,  as  a  matter  of 
col^rse,  there  are  some  who  reside  in  comfortable  houses,  and 
have  enough  to  eat  and  drink — but  where  there  is  one  of 
this  character  and  condition,  there  are  ten  who  are  without 
the  decencies  of  a  common  home  in  this  country — to  say 
nothing  of  luxuries  and  superfluities.  In  some  streets  there 
are  almost  ordy  thieves,  robbers  and  prostitutes  ;  in  the  others 
there  are  mechanics  and  laboring  men  ;  and  in  some,  perhaps 
a  majority,  the  thieves,  prostitutes,  and  laboring  poor,  are 
herded  together  in  about  equal  numbers.  We  took  especial 
pains  to  learn,  through  observation,  the  condition  of-  the  Ltrri- 
don  laboring  population,  and  we  were  forced  by  our  observa- 
tions, and  the  testimony  of  reliable  men,  to  the  conclusion, 
that  by  far  the  m.ajority— probably  five  sixths- — of  this  class  do 
not  possess  the  common  comforts  of  life.  Li  fact,  when  a  me- 
chanic is,  what  is  styled  in  England,  "  in  comfortable  circum- 
stances," his  condition  here  would  be  thought  a  sad  one.  A 
small  apartment,  with  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  jug  of  ale,  satisfies 
the  English  workman — thank  heaven,  it  is  not  so  here  I  The 
neat  house,  with  its  prettily  furnished  rooms,  its  books  and 
papers,  its  laughing  children,  which  a  laboring  man  in 
America  possesses,  the  London  laborer  never  even  dares  to 
hope  for,  except  in  extraordinary  cases. 


ENGLISH    POVEllTY.  113 

The  rent  of  buildings  in  respectable  quarters  is  so  high, 
that  a  laboring  man  cannot  pay  it,  and  it  is  folly  for  him  to 
think  of  it.  So  he  is  compelled  to  locate  his  wife  and  chil- 
dren amJd  disease,  and  crime,  and  misery.  His  wages  will 
not  allow  him  to  consult  his  tastes,  nor  even  his  convictions  of 
right  and  propriety. 

•  Bread  is  tolerably  cheap,  but  everything  else  is  dear ;  tlic 
price  is  about  twelve  cents  the  quartern  loaf;  butter  is  from 
twenty  to  twenty-eight  cents  per  pound  ;  good  sugar  twelve 
cents,  pure  tea  two  dollars  the  pound,  though  a  miserable 
mixture  may  be  had  for  half  that  sum.  The  best  steaks 
are  twenty-four  cents  a  pound,  and  fish  are  high-priced. 
Let  us  suppose  a  case  :  a  mechanic  locates  in  the  region 
of  Spitalfields — he  is  forced  to  do  so  because  he  cannot  pay 
the  rents  of  wholesome  neighborhoods — he  has  a  wife  and 
six  children  depending  upon  his  labor.  Say  that  he  is  so 
'brtunate  as  to  earn  five  dollars  a  week,  (always  in  England, 
exclusive  of  board)— how  well,  how  sumptuously  can  he  live 
on  that  ?  Can  he  eat  meat  every  day  ?  Not  oftener  than 
every  Sunday,  Can  he  pay  to  send  his  children  to  school  ? 
No.  He  pays  his  rent— lives  upon  plain  bread  and  cheese 
and  beer — and  rejoices  if  he  is  able  to  keep  his  children  off 
the  parish. 

He  is  taken  ill— is  there  any  income  then  ?  No.  He  dies 
—  and  v>'here  goes  the  mother  with  her  six  children  ?  To  the 
poor-house  !  How  happy  can  a  man  be  with  such  a  prospect 
forever  staring  him  in  the  face  ?  The  London  working-man 
Cfi?inot  lay  up  money  v/ithout  practising  too  severe  self-denial. 

But  suppose  our  laboring  man,  instead  of  getting  five  dol- 
lars a  v/eek,  only  gets  two — which  is  oftener  the  case — what 
then  can  he  do  ?  He  must  herd  with  the  vicious.  If  he  has 
daughters,  they  become  prostitutes.  It  is  a  horrible  thing  to 
contemplate,  but  who  is  sure  that  he  could  withstand  the 
corrupt  influences  of  such  an  earthly  pandemonium  as  Spital- 


114  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

fields;  when  Starvation — a  most  potent  pleader — pointed  ai 
the  only  means  of  subsistence,  towards  Vice  ?  Let  the  pure 
in  heart  be  constantly  surrounded  by  vicious  persons  and  sights, 
and  confronted  by  Starvation,  and  how  long  would  it  be  be- 
fore they  would  lose  that  beautiful  purity  which  now  is  their 
crowning  glory  ?  But  the  poor  mechanic's  daughter  never 
had  education,  nor  the  light  of  religion,  was  never  made  to 
feel  the  beauty  of  virtue — and  the  transition  is  not  so  great, 
ot  so  terrible.  And  the  father  sees  his  children  walking  in 
lie  paths  of  Vice — can  he  say  to  them,  "  The  way  of  the 
transgressor  is  hard?"  They  will  ask,  "Was  it  not  hard 
before  we  transgressed  ?"  and  what  can  he  reply  ? 

One  of  the  most  frightful  features  of  London  poverty  is — 
the  lax  morality  of  the  poor,  in  theories  and  principles,  as 
well  as  acts.  The  discipline  of  suffering  is  good  for  man  to  a 
certain  extent,  but  it  should  never  touch  his  stomach.  jSTo 
man  can  face  hunger  long.  It  vanquishes  principles  and 
beliefs — it  overrides  conscience  even,  or  silences  it.'  These 
Spitalfields  men  feel  that  their  social  condition  is  terrible  and 
unjust,  and  they  believe  it  right  to  steal  when  they  can  get  a 
chance.  It  is  useless  to  preach  to  them — they  must  have 
bread  first.  Stay  their  stomachs  first — give  them  housesT-air. 
water,  and  light,  by  doing  away  with  all  class-legislation,  by 
throwing  taxation  wholly  upon  property,  by  making  citizens 
of  these  working-masses,  and  then  pour  into  their  ears  the 
truth.  Tell  them  then  it  is  wicked  to  steal — ^but  not  before, 
because  it  is  useless.  And  the  religious  world  will  one  day  be 
astonished  to  see  how  these  home-heathens  will  receive  the 
truths  of  revelation — when  the  church  shall  take  her  stand 
upon  the  side  of  the  defenceless  and  down-trodden.  These 
ignorant  masses  need  softening  by  kindness,  and  they  will  open 
their  ears  to  religious  truth. 

That  the  great  majority  of  the  depraved  eharacters  in  thii 
region  are  accustomed  to  think  their  avocations  without  any 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  115 

peculiar  sin,  we  have  little  doubt.  A  kind  of  necessity,  in 
their  sight,  makes  the  avocation  of  a  thief  as  honorable  as 
that  of  a  mechanic.  A  case  came  to  our  knowledge  while  in 
London,  which  is  a  good  illustration.  The  story  is  true  in 
every  particular.  A  boy  from  a  low  lodging-house  in  Spital 
fields,  went  one  evening  to  a  E.agged-School  in  the  vicinity. 
Liking  it,  he  continued  his  visits  in  order  that  he  might  gain 
a  little  education.  By  degrees  he  got  so  that  he  could  read 
in  the  Testafnent.  The  teachers  liked  him — he  was  a  faith- 
ful, good-hearted-boy,  though  born  in  the  midst  of  pollution 
He  was  generous  and  kind.  The  School  which  he  attended 
generally  opens  at  six  o'clock  on  Sunday  evening,  and  closes 
at  eight.  The  churches  generally  close  at  half-past  eight  or 
nine.  There  is  a  large  one  but  a  little  distance  from  this 
Ragged-School.  One  Sunday  evening  the  Superintendent 
kept  the  boys  uncommonly  late,  until  at  last  this  boy's  pa- 
tience was  exhausted,  and  he  rose  from  his  seat  and  walkc-d 
to  the  master,  asking  : . 

"Please,  sir,  what  time  is  it  ?" 

"  Half-past  eight,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Please,  sir,  may  T  go  out  ?"  he  then  asked. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  to  go  out  ?"  interrogated  the  master. 

"  Because  ifs  about  time  for  church  to  break  wp  l"" 

*'  Well,  and  what  do  you  care  about  when  the  church 
breaks  up  ?" 

"  Please,  sir,"  answered  the  boy,  with  a  perfectly  innocent 
countenance,  and  as  if  he  M^ere  saying  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world,  "  Please,  sir,  that's  the  time  for  busioiess .'" 

A  smile  spread  over  the  teacher's  face,  as  he  saw  how 
frankly  the  boy  had  confessed  his  avocation  of  stealing — but 
the  circumstance  might  make  one  weep,  for  it  indicates  a  sad 
state  of  things  when  the  boys  in  the  streets  steal  under  the 
impr  lion  that  they  are  pursuing  an  honest  vocation.  The 
masl      himself  related  the  story  to  us,   and  gave  us  many 


116  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

other  facts  wh-.^h  have  come  under  his  own  ohservation,  all 
going  to  prove  that  the  general  opinion  among  the  thieves 
of  this  degraded  quarter  of  London  is,  that  there  is  nothing 
sinful  in  the  avocation  of  a  thief  And  yet  this  is  in  London, 
which  claims  to  be  the  most  civilized  city  in  the  world  I 
Here  is  a  vast  population  to  whom  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ 
is  hardly  known.  And  their  social  condition  is  so  wretchedly 
low  that  preaching  will  do  them  little  good.  They  must 
somehow  be  raised  to  a  better  condition,  encouraged  instead 
of  being,  as  at  present,  trodden  into  the  dust. 

We  were  fortunate  in  making  the  friendship  of  a  gentle 
man  in  London  who  has  devoted  much  of  his  time  to  this 
unfortunate  class  of  people.  He  has  ventured  into  all  parts 
of  Spitalfields,  and  sometimes  to  the  great  danger  of  his  per- 
son. Sometimes  when  we  have  accompanied  him  over  cer- 
tain portions  of  this  great  quarter  of  the  metropolis,  we  have 
returned  home  with  the  opinion  that  there  yawns  between 
the  rich  and  poor  of  London  a  great  gulf  almost  like  that  be- 
tween heaven  and  hell.  Not  merely  in  reference  to  deeds, 
but  in  everything — aspirations,  thoughts,  and  prine4ples,  as 
well  as  mere  act  ons.  Among  these  people  there  are  many^ 
men  and  women  who  were  once  educated  and  refined,  and 
m.oved  in  good  society.  Nor  was  it  indulgence  in  intoxicat- 
ing liquors  which  brought  them  there — it  was  but  a  turn  in  the 
wheel  of  Fortune — a  loss  of  property,  and  people  with  gentle 
hearts  and  affections  were  doomed  to  such  a  life.  Language 
is  too  feeble  to  portray  the  mental  suflerings  of  such  families, 
and  death  is  looked  for  by  such  as  a  prisoner  looks  for  a  re- 
prieve. 

Our  friend  went  one  day  with  a  policeman  into  a  terrible 
haunt  in  Spitalfields  to  hunt  up  a  ragged  school-boy.  They 
entered  a  room  which  was  small  ;  the  walls  were  covered 
with  dirt  and  vermin,  ana  yet  30  or  40  men,  women,  and 
children  were  gathered  in   it,  some   huddling  about  the  fire. 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  Il7 

ana  others  eating  their  supper.  Our  friend  could  not  bear 
the  atmosphere  of  the  room,  and  after  hastily  making  one  or 
two  inquiries,  was  retreating,  when  one  of  the  nurriber  ap 
proached  and  said  : 

"  JVe  are  a  hard  set,  sir,  but  there  is  a  young  feller  in  the 
next  room  who  is  eddicated,  sir, — and  he  is  dying .'" 

"  Dying  I"  echoed  our  friend,  "  let  me  see  him." 

He  was  shown  into  a  miserable  apartment,  and  there,  upon 
a  wretched  couch,  lay  a  young  man  with  a  face  singularly 
marked  with  intellect,  and  yet  wearing  an  expression  of  in- 
tense misery — and  indeed  he  seemed  to  be  dying.  Our  friend 
spoke  to  him  in  a  kind  manner,  and  he  answered  in  a  low 
and  melancholy  voice.  He  was  widely  different  from  the 
herd  about  him,  and  by  degrees  his  history  came  from  his 
lips,  and  it  appeared  that  the  only  cause  why  he  lay  there 
was,  2^overty.  He  never  drank,  was  not  vicious — but  he  was 
dying,  and,  great  God  !  in  the  metropolis  of  the  civilized 
world,  dying  of  hunger  !  He  was  Avorn  down  to  a  skeleton. 
He  could  get  no  employment,  he  would  not  steal,  as  those  did 
who  were  about  him — and  this  was  the  result. 

He  was  of  a  good  family,  well  educated,  but  misfortune  in 
business  had  plunged  his  father  into  the  depths  of  poverty, 
and  he,  the  son,  was  starving  in  Spitalfields.  And  while  he 
lay  there,  he  had  an  uncle  who  was  wealthy — who  had  twice 
been  a  mayor  of  a  provincial  city.     Said  he — 

"  I  met  my  rich  cousin  a  few  weeks  since  on  the  sidewalk. 
He  would  not  know  me.  He  saw  I  was  starving  ;  I  told  him 
go  ;  but  he  turned  me  off  without  a  penny  I"  Thus  it  i 
that  Poverty  in  London  steps  in  between  blood-relations.  An 
uncle  will  let  a  boy  v,  ith  a  dead  sister's  blood  coursing  in  his 
veins,  starve  to  death  before  he  will  try  to  help  him — he 
would  ruin  himself  were  he  to  help  all  his  poor  relations,  in 
such  a  country  as  England.  A  friend  of  ours  because  of  hia 
kindness  of  heart  employed  a  young  man  9s  writing-clerk 


118  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

who  had  a  young  wife  and  children  to  suppo^-t  He  found 
that  he  had  an  only  brother  who  is  the  Captain:  of  one  of  Her 
Majesty's  mail  steamers,  and  who  has  a  fine  income,  and 
when  this  poor  clerk  was  out  of  employment  and  half  starv- 
ing, he  went  on  his  knees  before  his  wealthy  brother — who 
flung  him  2  sovereign  and  walked  away  I  But  to  return  to 
our  first  story.  Oar  friend  spoke  to  the  young  man  of  his 
mother,  and  he  burst  into  tears.  She  was  dead — and  a 
smile  spread  over  his  face  v/hile  he  said  it — a  smile  of  joy. 
Oh  I  hoio  glad  he  was,  that  slie  died  before  misfortune  came. 

Our  friend  asked  if  he  had  any  sisters — a  burning  blush 
suffused  his  features,  and  he  replied  in  agony, 

•'  Would  that  she  had  died  v/ith  her  mother  !"  All  was 
told  in  that  single  sentence — the  suffering,  sorrow,  and  shame. 

"  But  she  is  dead  now,  poor  girl,"  he  added,  '*  and  God 
will,  I  know,  judge  leniently  one  who  suffered  so  much." 

The  young  man  was  removed  to  a  place  where  he  was 
Kindly  nursed,  but  in  a  few  days  died.  Tlie  physician  said 
that  starvation  was  the  cause. 

We  do  not  wish  the  reader  to  suppose  that  London  is  the 
wretchedest,  wickedest  city  in  the  world — not  by  any  means 
— but  we  do  think  the  social  state  of  England  is  such,  that 
in  many  cases  the  ties  of  blood  and  marriage  are  snapt  asun- 
der as  an  inevitable  consequence  of  that  system  which  de- 
presses man  in  the  mass,  and  elevates  a  few  to  unbounded 
wealth,  education,  and  privilege.  It  cannot  be  otherwise, 
argue  round  it  as  we  may.  Everything  which  tends  to  raise 
the  civil  position  of  the  ivliole  people  of  any  country,  adds  to 
the  comfort,  sobriety,  and  religious  fervor  of  that  people,  and 
everything  which  tends  to  depress  the  masses,  in  their  civil 
rights,  adds  to  their  M^oe,  vice,  and  wretchedness. 

Much  has  been  written  and  spoken  about  the  miserable 
habits  of  beer-drinking,  which  almost  every  English  work- 
man has.     It  is  true  that  it  is  a  vile  and  wide-spread  habit, 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  119 

but  we  never  expect  to  see  the  class  of  English  v^^orking  men 
temperance  men,  until  they  possess  civil  rights.  It  would  bo 
quite  as  rational  to  expect  our  negro  population  to  become 
masters  in  literature  while  in  slavery.  The  cause  of  temper- 
ance, from  the  first,  has  moved  slowly  onward  in  England — 
L'ut  in  America  it  \vd&  been  just  the  reverse,  for  the  universal 
elian.ge  of  sentiment  here  in  a  few  years  is  astonishing.  The 
simple  reason  is,  that  the  people  in  this  country  have  rights 
and  homes,  and  equal  privileges.  The  social  [losition  of 
man  may  be  so  low  as  to  shut  out  all  encouragement  from 
his  heart.  If  he  practises  self-denial,  he  does  not  reap  any 
striking  benefits  therefrom.  Let  the  great  class  of  English 
working-men  have  their  rights,  and  they  will  with  proper  ex- 
ertion become  temperate  and  good.  We  know  that  it  is 
argued  by  many  that  Englishmen  must  cease  their  beer- 
drinking  before  they  will  have  their  political  rights  granted 
them — that  they  must  become  known  for  sobriety  and  indus- 
try, and  then  they  can  demand  their  rights  with  success. 
This  to  a  certain  extent  is  true,  but  after  all,  social  reforms 
are  exceedingly  slow  in  a  country- where  the  majority  of  the 
people  are  without  the  franchise.  GMve  to  a  body  of  men 
their  civil  rights,  and  you  add  to  their  dignity  of  character, 
and  they  will  strive  earnestly  to  be  worthy  of  their  position. 
Let  them  remain  as  mere  cyphers,  politically,  and  they  lose 
ambition,  and  will  turn  to  sensual  gratifications.  Either  the 
animal  or  the  intellectual  qualities  in  a  man  will  become 
fully  developed.  Make  him  a  serf,  and  you  help  to  develop 
his  animal  propensities  ;  make  him  a  citizen,  and  you  de- 
velop his  intellect.  If  to-morrow  the  right  of  voting  were 
accorded  to  every  honest  man  in  England,  the  v/ork  of  the 
temperance  reformers  would  be  comparatively  easy.  To  be 
sure  the  poverty  of  the  people  and  their  ignorance  would 
have  to  be  overcome,  but  all  difficulties  would  vanish  when 
the  people  become  citizens.     Their  ambition  would  be  strong 


120  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

and  steady;  unjust  laws  would  be  repealed;  a  system  of 
common  schools  established,  and  the  miUions  of  w'orking-men 
m  England  would  with  pride  become  possessors  of  happy, 
€ober  homes. 

DUCK  LANE. 

With  a  city  missionary — a  pious  and  courageous  man — we 
ne  day  visited  Duck  Lane.  As  we  approached  it,  we  no- 
ticed that  the  buildings  were  small,  low,  and  filthy,  with 
their  few  windows  stuffed  with  rags,  pasteboard,  or  broken 
panes  of  glass.  The  doors  were  generally  swinging  wide 
open,  revealing  any  quantity  of  half-nude  children  wdth 
gquaiid  faces.  The  only  business-places  w^ere  little  groceries 
and  pawn  shops.  The  latter  were  full  of  various  articles  of 
clothing,  a  few  watches,  and  a  very  extensive  assortment  of 
handkerchiefs,  which  fact,  was  proof  enough  that  the  pawn- 
shops, as  they  are  called  in  this  region,  are  principally  sup- 
ported by  thieves.  We  now  entered  Duck  Lane— but  saw 
no  signs  of  beggary  there.  Li  fact,  the  population  of  that 
street  are  not  beggars,  but  thieves  and  prostitutes.  They  are 
too  fierce  to  beg.  We  saw  no  shops  or  places  of  business,  but 
4ie  street  had  an  air  of  suspicious  silence.  The.  gas-lights 
were  dimly  burning,  and  occasionally  a  couple  of  policemen, 
arm-in-arm,  were  walking  down  the  street.  Here  we  saw  a 
window  open,  revealing  the  form  of  a  well-rouged  girl,  sitting 
hy  it  as  a  decoy,  to  tempt  some  foolish  man  to  enter  her  haunt 
ef  the  depraved  ;  yonder  there  were  sounds  of  a  violin,  as  if 
music  must  minister  to  the  wants  of  even  the  wretched  peo- 
ple of  this  region. 

We  passed  on  a  little  way  down  the  street,  and  then  turned 
into  a  narrow  court  on  the  left,  which  was  full  of  darkness. 
The  missionary  stopped  before  a  li:tle  building  and  knocked. 
Where  we  were  going  was  only  known  to  himself,  but  soon 
an  old  woman  appeared  at  the  door,  which  she  opened  to  ui. 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  121 

Her  face  was  frank  and  lionest,  indeed  we  were  surprised  tc 
see  such  a  face  in  Duck  Lane. 

"  She  is  the  only  honest  person  I  know  in  the  Lane,"  said 
the  missionary,  and  the  woman  seemed  to  like  the  compli- 
m3nt  very  much. 

We  now  passed  up  a  narrow  and  rickety  stairway,  until 
we  came  to  a  little  room  or  hall,  into  which  opened  several 
doors,  but  all  were  shut.  This  was  the  old  woman's  room  ; 
in  it  there  was  a  pallet  of  straw,  a  three-legged  table,  one  or 
two  old  chairs,  a  kettle,  and  a  very  meagre  assortment  of 
crockery — and  that  was  the  whole  furniture  of  the  room. 
The  missionary  turned  to  the  doors  of  the  tier  of  rooms  oppo- 
site and  asked  : 

"  Are  any  of  the  people  of  those  rooms  in  ?"  She  replied 
that  they  were  all  out 

"  And  on  business  ?"  said  the  missionary  with  a  smile 
Pointing  at  a  particular  door  he  said  : 

"  That  room  is  the  place  of  resort  for  a  well-organized  band 
of  thieves.  I  have  been  there,  and  the  captain  of  the  band 
gives  me  a  pound  sterling  every  year  for  Ragged  Schools  I" 

"But  what  can  be  his  object?"  we  asked, 

"  A  good  one,"  replied  our  friend,  "  for  he  is  desirous  to 
keep  all  young  persons  from  growing  up  as  he  has  done,  lie 
is  too  old,  he  says,  to  live  now  by  any  honest  avocation — \\c 
must  steal  or  starve.  But  he  wants  his  own  children  to  go 
to  the  Ragged  Schools  and  become  honest  and  live  by  indus- 
try, if  it  be  possible,  and  so  he  gives  his  pound  a  year  for  the 
support  of  the  schools  I" 

After  we  had  talked  awhile,  the  missionary  proposed  that 

we  should  visit   a  Thieves'   Hotel   farther  down   the  street. 

Once  more  we  entered  the  dark  court  and  the  silent  street, 

and   walked   slowly  on  till   we  came  to  a  door  over  which 

there  was  the  sign  "  Hotel."     We  paused  at  the  threshold 

a  moment,  to  hear  the  talk  and  uproar  within.     Then  taking 
1'^ 


122  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOK. 

good  care  of  our  purses  and  handkerchiefs,  we  opened  th» 
door  and  pas  ed  into  the  bar-room.  There  were,  perhaps,  a 
dozen  persons  in  the  room,  some  of  them  drinking,  some  smok- 
ing, and  others  talking  to  each  other  in  a  low  voice.  They 
eyed  us  closely  at  first,  as  if  we  had  no  business  there,  but 
rco;znizing  the  missionary,  they  relapsed  into  their  former 
positions,  and  paid  little  attention  to  us.  For  the  missionar}' 
is  at  liberty  to  go  where  he  pleases  in  this  dan^Brous  region 
hd  has  helped  the  vile  and  wretched  so  many  times  wher* 
they  were  ill,  that  they  never  harm  him  ;  besides,  they  have 
•confidence  in  him  that  he  will  not  reveal  anything  to  the  po- 
lice, as  his  great  object  is  to  save  the  young,  and  make  known 
the  retributions  and  the  felicities  of  the  next  world  to  all. 

The  bar-maid,  in  the  hotel,  was  bestuck  with  cheap  jew- 
elry, and  covered  with  paint,  and  carried  on  a  species  of  co- 
quetry with  her  low  admirers.  The  thieves  were  many  of 
them  well-dressed,  but  all  were  wretched  in  feature,  and 
when  we  opened  the  door  and  were  again  in  the  street,  the 
missionar}''  told  us  that  in  almost  all  their  cases  they  were 
thieves  because  they  could  not  earn  bread  any  other  way — 
told  us  that  they  were  the  most  ignorant  of  all  heathen — that 
they  knew  notliing  of  God  or  Jesus  Christ,  nor  ever  heard  of 
them  save  in  oaths  I 

We  were  now  abreast  the  Abbey — glorious  Westminstci 
Abbey — and  splendid  carriages  rolled  by,  with  wealth  and 
obility.  Perhaps  it  was  the  breaking  up  of  some  missionary 
T.ieeting,  where  thousands  had  been  voted  to  spread  the  Biblo 
in  Afghanistan  or  Turkey  ;  while  from  the  Avindows  of  their 
meeting-hall  they  could  have  seen  worse  infidels  than  the  sun 
shines  upon  in  Turkey,  and  darker  souls  than  any  that  exist 
in  Afghanistan  I 

Upon  one  of  onr  visits  to  the  various  Ragged  Schools  of  the 
metropolis,  we  became  much  interested  in  a  lad  ten  or  elcvem. 
years  old,   who  had  a  frank,  open   countenance.     H©  wm 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  123 

dressed  in  a  suit  of  rags,  but  still  had  an  air  of  nobleness.  He 
was  reading  busily  in  his  Testament,  and  would  stop  occasion- 
ally, and  ask  'Such  curious  questions  cf  his  teacher,  that  we 
could  not  help  smiling.  We  sat  down  by  his  side,  and  asked 
him  ivhere  he  lived. 

"  I  live  almost  everywhere,"  was  his  reply.  We  asked 
him  hota  he  lived. 

"  Almost  Siiiyliota,  too,"  was  his  reply. 

"  But  what  is  your  business  ?"  we  asked.  ■ 

"  I  am  a  water-cress  boy,"  was  his  reply,  *'  and  get  up 
every  morning  at  two  oclock,  and  go  on  foot  three  or  four 
miles,  and  sometimes  six  or  eight,  into  the  edge  of  the  coun- 
try, to  buy  water-cresses.  I  get  a  basket  of  them  there  for  a 
shilling,  and  by  crying  them  all  day,  generally  clear  one  shil- 
ling on  the  lot,  which  pays  my  board  and  lodging." 

"  But  can  you  live  upon  a  shilling  a  day  ?"  we  asked. 

"  Yes,  pretty  well — but  many  times  I  don't  make  a  shilling, 
and  then  I  buy  a  crust  of  bread,  and '  go  and  sleep  under  an 
arch  of  a  bridge,  or  some  old  crate  or  box,  down  on  the 
wharves  I" 

Just  then  the  teacher  beckoned  me  away,  and  said  : 

"  The  lad  you  have  been  talking  with  comes  here  every  eve- 
ning to  study — and  that  too  when  he  is  obliged  to  be  up  every 
morning  between  two  and  three  o'clock.  Not  long  since,  his 
mother  was  imprisoned  for  arrearages  in  her  rent — the  sum 
needed  to  release  her  was  but  ten  shillings — and  this  lad  al- 
most starved  himself,  and  slept  out-of-doors,  until  he  had 
saved  money  enough  to  release  his  mother  from  the  jail  ! 
"Was  that  not  heroism  ?" 

Aye — that  boy  was  a  truer  hero  than  ever  was  Napoleon 
upon  the  battle-field,  for  while  one  was  intensely  selfish,  the 
other  was  ready  to  suffer  for  others  ! 


124  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


THE  POOR  TINKER,. 


When  the  E.ag-ged  School  system  was  first  introduced  in 
London,  it  was  dangerous  to  go  to  the  schools,  as  there  were 
villains  ready  to  injure  both  teachers  and  visitors.  The  plac<'. 
where  the  first  school  was  organized  was  in  one  of  the  most 
dangerous  parts  of  London,  not  far  from  Duck  Lane,  and  its 
first  teacher  was  a  poor  but  honest  tinker,  who  lived  near  the 
spot.  He  was  very  poor,  yet  he  spent  all  his  evenings  and 
Sundays  g,t  the  school.  To  be  sure  he  was  ignorant  himself, 
and  was  as  ragged  as  any  of  his  scholars,  but  his  devotion 
was  great,  and  he  labored  faithfully  until  Ragged  Schools  be- 
came popular,  and  teachers  from  the  educated  classes  volun- 
teered their  services — then  the  kind  old  tinker  came  to  the 
missionary  who  founded  the  school,  and  said,  with  tears  in  his 
honest  eyes  : 

"  I  am  too  poor,  too  ragged,  sir,  for  the  school — they  will 
not  need  me  any  longer  I" 

One  day  the  missionary  asked  us  if  we  would  like  to  see  a 
specimen  of  the  honest  poverty  of  England.  We  answered 
him  in  the  affirmative,  and  followed  him  into  old  Pye-street, 
where  w^e  stopped  before  a  mere  hut,  not  six  feet  by  twelve 
square,  the  walls  of  brick,  and  a  few  boards  thrown  loosely 
over  the  top  for  a  roof.  The  only  window  was  in  the  top  of 
the  door,  which  swung  upon  leather  hinges.  We  entered  the 
room,  but  there  was  scarcely  place  for  us.  An  old  chair,  a 
few  culinary  utensils,  a  few  tools,  were  the  contents  of  the 
room.  A  few  coals  were  dimly  burning  in  the  grate,  and  an 
old  man,  with  gray  hair,  and  pale,  worn  features,  yet  with  a 
saintly  forehead,  was  bending  over  them,  vainly  endeavoring 
to  solder  an  old  kettle  which  he  held  in  one  hand.  As  we 
came  in,  he  started  up  and  grasped  the  missionary's  hand, 
while  tears  stole  do\^n  his  haggard  cheeks  and  rolled  off  upon 
the  earth  below — for  there  was  no  floor.     The  sight  was  one 


ENGLISH    POVEKTY.  125 

we  never  hid  seen  before,  and  Ave  stood,  half  doubting  oni 
identity — doubting  whether  it  could  be  possible  that  such 
poverty  existed  in  great  London. 

"It  is  the  tinker,  our  first  teacher,"  said  the  missionary, 
"  and  he  is  very — God  knows  Iwio — poor  !" 

Ah  I — we  saw  that — it  was  indeed  the  saddest  sight  we 
ever  witnessed.  We  shook  his  hand — a  faint,  forced  smile 
rested  like  a  shadow  upon  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then 
flitted  away,  and  the  tear-drops  gathered  again  in  lis  eyes. 
We  heard  a  low  moan  in  a  farther  corner  of  tlie  apartment, 
and  when  we  looked  into  it,  saw  stretched  upon  a  bed  of 
straw  upon  the  naked  earth,  a  woman,  apparently  in  the  last 
stages  of  consumption.  Great  Heavens  ! — and  was  this  hon- 
est poverty  in  England  ?  Was  this  a  sample  of  life  among 
the  poor  of  London  ? 

"  She  is  my  luife  /"  said  the  tinker,  looking  up  at  us  in  a 
beseeching  manner.  And  then  the  missionary  took  the  poor 
woman's  hand,  and  kneeling  down  upon  the  cold  earth,  com- 
forted her  worn  heart  by  telling  her  that  in  heaven  there  is 
no  more  sorrow  or  suffering  I  Her  breath  came  short  and 
quick,  and  she  spoke  in  whispers,  but  we  saw  that  she  was 
glad  to  die.  It  was  like  wandering  all  the  hot  summer  day 
in  search  of  a  garden  of  flowers  and  cool  springs  ; — and  now 
she  sees  the  entrance-gate,  she  snuffs  the  odorous  air,  and 
hears  with  her  thirsty  imagination  the  gurgling  of  the  cool 
streams  I 

"  Ton  will  be  happy  there,"  said  the  missionary. 

"  Yes  !  yes  I"  she  answered,  but  the  tears  sprang  into  her 
eyes  as  she  asked  : 

"  But  who  will  take  care  oi  him  ?''  pointing  at  the  tinker. 

"  He  who  has  thus  far  taken  care  of  you  both,"  replied  the 
missionary. 

The  old  man  was  still  trying  to  mend  the  kettle. 


126  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

"  I  would  not  try  to  mend  it — 'tis  not  worth  the  trouble,' 
said  the  missionary. 

"  I  shall  g-et  a  few  pennies  if  I  do,"  said  the  old  man,  "  and 
I  want  to  get  her  a  few  more  comforts  before  she  dies — but  I 
"ear  'tis  too  old  to  mend." 

It  was  an  appeal  to  our  purse  which  could  not  be  withstood, 
and  when  the  old  man's  hot  tears  of  gratitude  rained  upon 
our  hands,  we  felt  richly  paid  for  the  few  pieces  of  silver  we 
had  given  away. 

When  we  came  away,  and  saw  in  the  open  street  a 
thousand  elegant  carriages  rolling  away  ;  saw  the  rich  and 
proud  on  every  hand,  our  heart  grew  indignant.  The  next 
day  the  old  tinker's  wife  was  a  corpse,  and  he  is  now  strug- 
gling on  alone. 

ST.  GILES. 

London  has  its  St.  Giles  as  well  as  St.  James — its  Seven 
Dials  and  Saffron  Hill,  as  well  as  its  Strand  and  Regent- 
street.  In  giving  the  reader  a  few  glimpses  of  Duck  Lane, 
and  Spitalfields,  we  have  not  unfolded  a  tithe  of  the  horrors 
of  London  poverty.  We  sometimes  talk  of  poverty  in  America, 
and  there  is  suffering  in  many  of  cur  great  towns,  but  when 
contrasted  with  the  hidden  horrors  of  a  London  life  among  the 
poor,  it  sinks  into  insignificance.  Our  poverty  is  not  American 
— it  is  imported.  No  great  class  is  here  poor — but  in  England 
nd  Wales  alone  there  are  three  millions  of  paupers  I 

St.  Giles  in  London  is  one  of  the  prominent  quarters  where 
poverty  and  the  loM^est  species  of  vice  abound.  It  is  crowded 
by  a  half-Irish  population,  of  all  occupations,  and  no  occupa- 
tions, guilty  of  all  manner  of  vices,  from  petty  thieving  up  to 
cold-blooded  murder. 

The  London  Statistical  Society  recently  appointed  a  com- 
mittee to  examine  the  sanitary  condition  of  Church  Lane  in 
St.  Giles.     A  friend  of  ours  was  one  of  that  committee,  and 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  127 

here  are  a  few  of  the  facts  embodied  In  their  report.  The 
Lane  is  three  hundred  feet  long,  and  contains  thirty-two  houses. 
It  has  three  gas-lights,  and  water  is  supplied  to  it  three  times 
a  week,  but  no  tanks  or  tubs  were  to  be  found.  The  first 
house  which  the  committee  visited  contained  forty-five  persons, 
and  only  six  rooms,  and  twelve  beds  I  The  windows  were 
broken  in — really  a  beneficial  thing — and  filth  abounded 
everywhere.  In  the  second  building,  there  were  fifty  persons, 
and  thirteen  beds  In  the  third,  there  were  sixty-one  persons, 
and  only  nine  beds,  averaging  seven  persons  to  a  bed,  and 
these  of  both  sexes,  all  ages  and  conditions  I  When  it  is  re- 
membered that  these  buildings  are  low,  small,  and  wretched ; 
the  rooms  mere  pens,  some  idea  of  their  occupants  can  be 
formed.  The  three  houses  mentioned  are  only  a  fair  sample 
of  the  whole  Lane,  every  house  of  which  the  Committee 
visited.  In  their  report,  made  for  the  use  of  Parliament,  they 
say  : 

"  In  these  wretched  dwellings,  all  ages  and  both  sexes, 
fathers  and  daughters,  mothers  and  sons,  grown-up  brothers 
and  sisters,  stranger  adult  males  and  females,  and  swarms  of 
children, — the  sick,  the  dying,  and  the  dead,  are  herded 
together  with  a  proximity  and  mutual  pressure  which  the 
brutes  would  resist  :  where  it  is  physically  impossible  to  pre- 
serve the  ordinary  decencies  of  life,  where  all  sense  of  pro- 
priety and  self-respect  must  be  lost." 

Such  is  the  picture  of  London  poverty,  drawn  too,  by 
Englishmen.  Into  this  region,  scarcely  ever,  does  splendid 
Vice  set  its  feet.  Here  are  only  common  thieves  and  the 
lowest  of  the  prostitutes.  Sin  is  horrible  in  its  lineaments  in 
St.  Giles — it  can  put  on  no  seductive  features  there.  The 
expert  gamester  and  richly  apparelled  prostitute  of  St.  James, 
little  expect  to  one  day  make  their  home  in  the  filthy 
St.  Giles  ;  yet  a  few  years  will  accomplish  the  transition. 
It  is  invariably  the  last  resort  of  the  wretched  and  vicious 


128  V/HAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

When  all  other  portions  of  London  have  cast  tliem  out, 
St.  Giles  opens  its  doors  to  them,  Vv'eil  knowing  that  they  can 
go  no  farther — till  they  step  into  their  graves.  And  yet,  such 
is  the  power  of  love,  there  have  been  instances  of  reform  even 
among  these  lowest  of  the  low.  Our  friend  the  missionary 
in  one  of  his  visits  to  this  quarter,  met  with  a  young  thief 
who  seemed  to  possess  certain  good  qualities.  He  met  him 
one  Sunday  morning  in  the  Strand,  well  dressed,  and  pre- 
pared to  carry  on  his  business  of  thieving,  when  the  missionary 
went  up  to  him,  and  took  his  arm  saying  : 

"  Come,  go  with  me  to  church,  this  morning." 

"  You  dare  not  go  to  church  in  company  with  a  thief," 
replied  the  young  man. 

"  I  dare — go  come  with  me,"  said  the  missionary. 

"  But  the  police  will  know  me,  and  think  I  go  to  church 
to  steal,  and  will  turn  me  out,"  replied  the  thief.  But  the 
good  missionary  would  not  let  him  off,  and  he  went  to  church 
that  morning.  After  the  service  was  over,  the  missionary  said  : 

"  Let  us  go  to  a  walk  in  the  Park  I"  The  thief  was  melted 
by  his  kindness,  and  asked, 

"Are  you  not  ashamed  to  be  seen  walking  with  me  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  good  man,  "  I  am  never  ashamed  of  any 
being  who  possesses  a  soul  destined  to  immortality."  When 
they  were  in  the  Park  he  again  addressed  the  thief. 

"  Would  you  not  like  to  quit  your  present  life  ?" 

"Yes — if  I  could  keep  from  starvation,"  answered  the 
young  man. 

"  Well,  I  will  get  you  a  situation  as  gardener  in  the  country, 
with  moderate  wages — will  you  go,  and  promise  me  you  will 
do  your  best  ?" 

"  But  they  will  first  or  last  d'scover  that  I  was  a  thief,  and 
will  discharge  me." 

"  I  will  pledge  that  if  you  henceforth  conduct  yourself 
honorably,  you  shall  succeed — will  you  promise  ?" 


ENGLISH    POVERTY.  129 

*'I  will!" 

The  result  was  that  the  young  thief  became  an  honest  man, 
and  rose  gradually  to  moderate  wealth  and  education.  He 
is  at  present  the  principal  of"  a  large  school  in  one  of  the  first 
cities  in  England,  He  rose  because  he  first  had  an  honest 
man  to  recommend  him  to  a  good  place,  and  because  his 
early  life  was  shrouded  in  the  strictest  secrecy.  But  the 
majority  of  this  class  have  no  one  to  befriend  ther.i,  indeed 
the  world  shrinks  with  disgust  from  them,  and  their  course  is 
steadily  downward. 

F*  9 


CHAPTER  Vll. 

PERSONS    OF   NOTE 

SIR    CHARLES    NAPIER. 

Among  the  naval  and  military  characters  of  Great  Britain, 
Sir  Charles  Napier  holds  a  distinguished  position.  He  is 
S.ear  Admiral,  but  aside  from  his  titles  is  a  man  of  character, 
a  few  traits  of  which  we  propose  to  sketch.  He  is  quite  as 
widely  known  from  his  writings,  as  from  his  military  charac- 
ter, though  possessed  of  great  energy  and  military  talents. 
His  "  Lights  and  Shades  of  Military  Life"  have  been  pub- 
lished in  several  countries,  and  his  letters  on  India,  where  he 
has  spent  a  portion  of  his  life,  have  made  a  great  stir  in  Eng- 
land He  has  something  of  Andrew  Jackson's  character — is 
stern,  resolute,  and  sometimes  imprudent.  He  is  a  singular 
author,  for  he  attacks  persons  and  cabinets  with  his  pen,  as 
he  would  an  enemy  with  his  sword  in  time  of  war,  and  as  a 
matter  of  course,  makes  himself  many  enemies.  Occasionally 
he  constructs  sentences  which  remind  one  of  Junius,  but  he 
descends  to  coarse  personalities  too  often,  in  a  controversy. 
Yet  there  is  such  a  sailor-like  honesty  and  heartiness  in  all  he 
does  and  says,  that  he  is  very  popular,  and  his  books  meet 
with  a  ready  sale.  In  fact  he  is  pretty  generally  on  the  right 
side  of  a  question,  unluckily  sometimes,  when  he  damages  it  by 
his  fiery  enthusiasm.  He  does  not  hesitate  to  loudly  condemn 
the  atrocities  perpetrated  by  the  British  Government  in  India; 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  ]3l 

to  assert  that  there  is  hlood  upon  its  hand,  and  that  it  will 
hereafter  cry  "  Out,  damned  spot ;"  yet  it  will  not  *'  out." 

His  high  position  as  a  commander  and  nobleman,  gives  him 
a  hearing  whenever  he  asks  it,  and  he  is  always  ready  to  at- 
tack anybody,  in  the  Times^  who  ventures  to  hold  an  opinion 
contrary  to  his  own,  in  reference  to  the  array  or  navy.  There 
is  one  capital  trait  in  his  character — he  cares  no  more  for  a 
^ord  than  for  a  cobbler. 

Sometime  in  1849,  while  Sir  Charles  was  in  India,  a 
famous  letter  appeared  in  the  colums  of  the  Times,  attacking 
him  for  some  recent  letters  of  his,  and  was  signed  "  Scott 
Portland."  This  is  the  manner  in  which  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Portland  subscribes  himself,  and  so  the  reading  pub- 
lic knew,  generally,  and  they  anticipated  rare  sport  when  the 
Duke's  strictures  should  reach  Napier  at  Merchistoun.  But 
the  gallant  Admiral  has  always  been  so  busy,  that  he  has  not 
kept  in  memory  all  the  names  of  the  nobility,  and  never  sus- 
pected that  the  letter  was  written  by  a  Duke,  and  so  his  reply 
in  the  Times  commenced  with  : 

"I  do  not  know  who  Mr.  Scott  Portland  is  ;  but  he  knows 
so  little  about  his  subject,  that  his  letter  is  hardly  worth  an- 
swering." 

The  Duke  in  his  letter  had  praised  General  Napier,  the 
cousin  of  Sir  Charles,  and  he  thus  pungently  noticed  it : 

"  I  am  much  pleased  at  the  high  respect  Mr.  Scott  Port- 
land has  for  my  cousin  the  General,  and  much  distressed  at 
his  want  of  respect  for  the  Admiral ;  but  that,  I  take  leave  to 
observe,  has  nothing  to  do  either  with  the  construction  of 
steam-vessels,  or  the  defence  of  the  country  ;  and  I  think,  had 
he  left  out  the  latter  part  of  his  letter,  it  would  have  been 
more  creditable  to  himself,  and  given  him  more  weight  with 
the  public." 

The  latter  part  of  the  Duke's  letter  was  devoted  to  per- 
sonalities, while   the  first  part  contained  the  real  matter  in 


132  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOIT, 

controTersy  At  last  Sir  Charles  became  aware  that  he  was 
waging  a  dispute  with  an  emi»ent  man- — a  Duke — but  his 
Dnly  allusion  to  it,  his  only  apology  was  the  following  preface 
to  his  next  letter  in  the  Times : 

"So  it  appears  that  Mr.  Scott  Portland  turns  out  to  be  no 
less  a  personage  than  His  Grace  of  Portland!  I  never  could 
have  thought  that  a  Doke  would  have  condescended  to  make 
a  gratuitous  attack  on  a  half-pay  admiral  whom  he  never 
saw  ;  he  did,-»-and  he  got  his  answer.  Now  for  his  second 
letter," 

The  world  is  ready  to  forgive  such  a  man  for  niany  faults, 
and  thoiTgh  he  is  constantly  firing  his  guns  at  the  Premier  or 
Cabinet,  the  Board  of  Admiralty  or  the  Secretary  of  the  If  avy, 
yet  he  is  universally  popular.  His  hearty  boldness  is  liked 
and  pardoned  by  those  v/lio  would  not  pardon  the  &ame  spin* 
if  exhibited  by  a  mere  civilian. 

In  his  personal  appearance,  Sir  Charles  Kapier  is  very 
striking.  In  height  he  is  rather  above  the  ordinary  stature 
of  men,  his  figure  ia  none  of  the  finest,  and  yet  i§  coRimand- 
ing.  Hi§  forehead  is  espansive  but  retreating,  and  hia  face 
very  strongly  marked  by  iurrows.  He  has  a  shaggy  pair  of 
gray-blaek  whi&kers,  and  ha§  a  couple  of  fierce  and  large  eye- 
brows, and  from  behind  these  hie  piercing  eyes  shine  out  with 
a  half-ferocious  intelligence.  His  nose  is  rather  long,  and 
slightly  Roman — altogether  he  is  one  of  the  most  striking 
ui&R  we  ever  met.  An  utter  stranger,  if  used  to  reading 
faces,  Vv^ould  at  once  pronounce  him  a  reraaikable  man.  His 
crotchets  all  show  themgelves  in  his  face.  There  is  the  fire 
of  genius  in  his  eyes,  but  there  is  also  a  look  of  odd  defiance 
there,  which  at  once  lets  you  into  the  secret  of  his  always 
being  in  hot  water.  He  loves  battle — war  to  the  knife  is  his 
delight,  and  whether  it  be  with  the  pen  or  sword,  physical  or 
mental,  it  matters  little  to  him,  so  that  he  can  be  fighting. 
Of  course  with  hii  talents  and  position  in  society,  it  is  not  dif« 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  133 

ficult  to  pick  a  quarrel,  and  he  is  constantly  disputing  with, 
or  attacking  somebody.  There  are  many  such  characters  in 
this  world,  and  many  of  them,  with  all  their  destructiveness, 
are  not  ba:^  at  heart. 

DUKE  OF  WELLINGTON. 

The  Duke  of  Wellington,  we  need  not  say,  is  one  of  the 
most  renowned  characters  among  the  military  heroes  of  Eng- 
land, and  the  world.  We  are  aware  that  much  has  been 
written  about  him  for  the  past  twenty  years,  until  his  name 
tires  one,  yet  there  is  much  in  his  character  to  admire,  as 
wdl  as  much  to  detest.  That  iron  will  of  his  which  nothing 
could  ever  break  through,  or  triumph  over,  must  excite  our 
admiration,  for  there  is  much  grandeur  in  it.  It  has  made 
him  what  he  is — -one  of  the  most  distinguished  men  in  Europe. 
His  dogged  firmness  is  only  equalled  by  that  of  Joseph  Hume, 
the  parliamentary  economist. 

But  while  we  admire  the  Duke's  energy  of  character,  we 
cannot  applaud  the  use  which  he  has  often  made  of  that 
energy,  and  almost  terrible  will.  He  was  as  firm,  while 
Prime  Minister,  against  the  righteous  demands  of  an  incensed 
people,  as  he  was  on  the  field  of  Waterloo,  or  in  the  battles 
fought  on  Spanish  soil,  where  his  genius  and  energy  won  for 
him  so  many  honors.  He  was  as  willing  to  draw  his  sword 
upon  the  starving  mechanics  of  Birmingham,  who  dared  to 
plead  for  their  just  rights,  as  upon  the  enemy  across  the  chau* 
nel.  It  Vv'as  the  discovery  of  this  fact  which  suddenly  over- 
threw the  man  from  the  grand  pedestal  of  universal  popular- 
ity on  which  he  stood.  It  was  this  fact  which  shivered 
through  a  million  hearts,  leaving  horror  where  before  there 
was  almost  worship. 

The  nation  had  shouted  pseans  in  his  praise  ;  the  sky  grew 
dark  with  the  dust  raised  by  the  feet  of  millions  gathered  to 


134  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

do  him  honor  ;^— he  was  " the  saviour  of  his  country,"  "the 
hero  of  a  hundred  fights,"  the  nation's  God,  for  the  hour  at 
least.  So  many  iron  statues  were  cast  of  him,  that  to  this 
day  he  goes  hy  the  name  of  "  the  Iron  Duke." 

Suddenly  the  people  saw  in  him  their  deadliest  enemy. 
He  opposed  all  their  political  rights  ;  he  advocated  the  most 
abominable  abuses,  and  dared  the  people  to  a  trial  of  their 
strength. 

The  agitation  of  the  Eeform  Bill  became  greater,  profonnd- 
er,  until  millions  were  in  a  state  of  dangerous  excitement. 
They  only  asked  for  simple  rights.  They  did  not  demand 
that  the  monarchy  should  be  overthrown,  or  the  aristocracy 
— they  merely  asserted  a  principle  which  was  maintained 
centuries  before  in  Spain,  that  "  taxation  without  representa- 
tion is  tyranny." 

The  Duke  of  Wellington,  instead  of  speaking  soothing 
words  to  the  people  who  loved  him,  and  adored  him — instead 
of  concession,  unsheathed  his  sword,  and  drew  his  fingers 
lightly  across  its  edge  before  their  eyes,  trying  its  keenness, 
as  a  butcher  does  his  knife  before  he  cuts  the  throat  of  a 
lamb.  Then  burst  forth  the  rage,  and  horror,  and  disgust 
of  the  people.  From  one  end  of  Great  Britain  to  the  other 
there  arose  a  cry  of  passionate  indignation,  and  the  Duke  fell 
from  his  position,  and  with  the  people  has  never  recovered, 
no,  nor  ever  will  recover  it. 

In  their  madness  the  multitude  broke  in  his  windows,  and 
in  fear  he  ironed  them  up,  and  the  thousands  of  foreigners 
present  at  the  Great  Fair  at  Hyde  Park  had  before  them  not 
only  the  great  monument  in  his  honor,  but  also  a  monument 
to  his  shame  in  those  ironed  windows. 

We  first  saw  the  Duke  three  or  four  years  ago  in  the  House 
of  Lords,  and  were  of  course  struck  with  his  appearance 
Although  very  old  there  is  firm  decision  upon  his  face,  and 
he  resists  the  usual  weaknesses  of  old  age  with  great  success 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  135 

He  is  no  orator  now,  nor  ever  was  ;  nor  has  he,  we  think, 
shown  himself  to  be  a  statesman.  Yet  he  speaks  very  often 
in  the  House  of  Lords.  On  such  occasions  he  always  seems 
to  lean  upon  Lord  Brousfham,  and  turns  to  him  constantly, 
and  is  answered  by  his  erratic  lordship  with  an  approving 
uod  of  the  head.  His  body,  once  tall  and  firm,  is  slip;htly 
bent,  and  there  is  a  tremulousness  in  his  motions  which  be- 
trays his  years.  We  were  astonished  to  see  a  man  eighty 
years  ohl  bear  himself  so  finely.  His  peculiar  nose  told  us 
the  instant  our  eyes  fell  upon  him  who  he  was — it  has  not  a 
duplicate  in  the  world. 

Three  years  later  than  our  first  sight  of  the  old  hero  we 
saw  him  one  day  at  the  Admiralty  Office.  He  mounted  his 
steed  and  rode  away.  We  could  see  plainly  that  he  had 
grown  old,  from  his  face  and  manner,  and  yet  were  astonished 
to  see  so  old  a  man  mount  his  horse,  and  gallop  ofi"  like  a 
young  officer.  He  wore  his  favorite  Hessian  boots,  and  over- 
coat of  blue,  a  white  neckerchief,  and  a  common  English  hat. 

We  could  not  look  at  the  old  man  without  a  feeling  of 
mournfulness.  We  know  the  man  has  lacked  true  senti- 
ments, but  there  is  something  grand  in  his  stately  old  age. 
Besides  for  a  few  years  past  he  has  abstained  from  doing  or 
saying  anything  which  is  unpopular  with  the  people.  Wheth- 
er his  glory  gained  on  the  battle-field  be  hollow  or  not,  it  was 
the  people  of  England  who  shouted  him  on — it  was  for  them 
he  fought,  and  tJiey  cannot  well  deny  him  honor  as  a  war- 
rior, howevei  much  they  may  detest  his  statesmanship. 

The  House  of  Commons  has  a  celebrated  character  in 
Colonel  Sibthorpe — celebrated  not  for  intellect,  or  for 
gemus,  but  for  eccentricity.  He  is  a  kind  of  David  Crockett, 
without  Crockett's  great  energy  of  character.  He  never 
rises  to  speak  without  setting  the  whole  House  into  a  roar  of 
laughter,  and  yet  he  never  utters  any  brilliant  sayings.     There 


136  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

is  often  a  rough  wit  in  what  he  says,  but  if  another  member 
would  have  uttered  it  no  laughter  would  have  ensued.  His 
character  is  such  that  what  he  says  can  never  assume  dig 
nity.  He  is  a  fine-looking,  hearty  man,  with  a  jovial  coun- 
tenance ;  is  a  great  racer,  gambler,  and  Vv'iue-drinker,  and 
somehow  his  very  appearance  seems  to  give  a  flavor  to  his 
words.  He  makes  short  speeches,  so  full  of  odd  ideas  and 
humorous  arguments,  that  the  members  cannot  help  laugh- 
ing no  matter  upon  what  side  he  chances  to  be  in  the  de- 
bate. He  is  one  of  the  aristocracy — a  kind  of  pet  of  theirs, 
and  yet  is  an  exceedingly  coarse  and  vulgar  man  in  many 
things.  He  often  crows  like  a  cock  in  the  House  when  he  is' 
tired  of  the  speech  of  a  fellow-member,  or  will  interrupt  him 
in  other  ways.  He  was  bitterly  opposed  to  the  building  of 
the  Crystal  Palace,  principally  because  the  ground  upon 
which  it  stood  w'as  the  resort  of  the  aristocracy,  and  they  could 
not  pursue  their  horseback  rides  as  usual  with  thousands  oi 
the  vulgar,  common  people  around  them.  His  hatred  of 
foreigners,  too,  is  intense,  and  he  prophesied  all  manner  of 
evils  as  the  result  of  such  an  incoming  of  foreigners  to  see 
the  great  Exhibition.  He  frequently  called  upon  God  to 
strike  the  crystal  building  with  his  lightnings  and  dash  it  in 
pieces  I  The  proper  place  for  such  a  conceited  idiot  is  not  in 
Parliament,  but  in  a  Lunatic  Asylum.  Were  he  a  poor 
man  he  would  never  be  tolerated  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; 
and  we  are  very  sure  he  would  not  dare  to  act  in  Congress 
at  Y/ashington  as  he  does  in  the  English  House  of  Com- 
mons. But  a  scion  of  the  English  aristocracy  can  act  the 
ibol  to  perfection,  and  no  one  dares  to  murmur.  Fine  ladies 
smile  as  beautifully  upon  him  as  if  he  were  really  a  gentle- 
man, v/hile  at  the  same  time  they  curl  their  proud  lips  in 
scorn  at  the  base  sight  of  a  Commoner,  however  fair  and 
gentlemanly. 

Colonel  Sibthorpe  is  also  a  notorious  libertine,  and  we  were 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  137 

told  by  exce.lent  authority  that  upon  the  death  of  a  favorite 
mistress  an  English  hishop  condoled  with  him  «pon  his  loss. 
Such  a  fact  needs  no  comment, 

A  someT>'hat  sinirnlar  character  in  England  is  Mr.  Feargus 
D' Connor,  once  the  leader  of  the  great  body  of  the  Chartists 
— a  political  body  who  agitated  for  universal  suffrage,  and 
five  other,  as  they  termed  them,  grand  reforms.  Their 
grand  mistake  was  in  not  concentrating  upon  one  point — uni- 
versal suffrage.  For  it  is  clear  enough  that  when  the  peo- 
ple have  obtained  the  right  to  vote,  universally,  they  can  elect 
such  a  Parliament  as  they  please,  and  that  Parliament  or 
House  of  Commons  can  pass  such  laws  as  they  please.  But 
this  party  scattered  their  energies  upon  sis  objects  instead  of 
one,  and  as  a  result  have  obtained  nothing,  the  party  and 
agitation  being  now  pretty  much  silenced.  Mr.  O'Connor 
was  the  leader,  but  he  was  a  man  of  bad  moral  character^ 
and  such  men  are  never  to  be  trusted  in  political  matters, 
and  Mr.  O'Connor  hae^'ong  since  lost  the  confidence  of  the 
working-men  of  England.  Ten  years  ago  he  was  a  man  of 
considerable  abilities,  and  was  feared  by  the  Government, 
unless,  as  many  think,  he  was  bribed  by  the  Government  to 
lead  on  the  people  in  matters  of  reform,  and  to  so  lead  them 
as  to  disgust  the  better  portion  of  the  country  with  their 
cause  and  thus  surely  defeat  reform.  Such  things  have  be- 
fore now  been  done  by  the  English  rulers.  Feargus  O'Con- 
nor was  then  a  good  speaker,  only  he  lacked  real  sincerity — ■ 
he  could  not  conceal  the  air  and  manner  of  a  demagogue 
which  he  was  at  heart.  Since  then  he  has  developed  hinrt- 
elf  thoroughly  before  the  nation,  and  no  confidence  is  felt  iis 
him.  Of  late  he  seems  to  have  lost  his  usual  powers  of 
mind,  and  makes  the  most  ridiculous  speeches.  He  tried  to 
address  Kossuth  in  a  public  meeting  at  Southampton  in  th^ 
most  inflated  manner,  but  w^as  promptly  put  down. 


138  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


MACAULAY. 


Mr.  Macaulay's  fame  is  not  confined  to  England,  nor  aro 
his  works  read  so  extensively  there  as  in  America.  He  is 
now  disconnected  with  politics,  as  he  ever  should  be. 

He  is  now  in  his  proper  sphere,  with  his  pen  in  hand,  for 
he  has  too  much  genius  to  be  a  mere  politician.  As  an  ora- 
tor lie  has  won  the  highest  praise,  but  not  as  a  mere  poli- 
tician; and  in  an  election  was  defeated  by  a  far  less  talented, 
but  more  straightforward  man.  Few  v»^ho  were  in  Parlia- 
ment at  the  time  will  ever  forget  his  memorable  debate  with 
Groker,  his  political  as  well  as  literary  enemy. 

T.  B.  Macaulay's  father  was  a  strong  advocate  of  the  abo- 
lition of  slavery,  and  the  son  has  inherited  the  anti-slavery 
opinions  of  the  father,  who  was  the  companion  of  Wilberforce. 
But  in  politics  Macaulay  has  been  rather  unfortunate.  We 
know  that  he  won  a  brilliant  oratorical  fame  while  in  Par- 
liament, but  his  course  was  such  as  to  displease  his  constitu- 
ents. He  was  too  much  of  a  party  man — bound  up  with  an- 
cient Whigism,  or  more  properly  speaking,  'modern  Whigism, 
which  is  amazingly  like  Toryism.  He  was  unpopular  with 
the  people.  It  was  thought,  and  with  a  good  deal  of  truth, 
that  he  did  not  act  up  to  what  he  had  written.  Few  writers 
do.  Guizot  has  written  very  fair  sentences  in  favor  of  liberty, 
but  his  acts  have  been  just  the  opposite.  So,  the  historian, 
while  a  member  of  Government,  seemed  to  lose  his  love  of 
freedom. 

He  commenced  his  political  career  by  being  appointed  Com 
missioner  of  Bankrupts.  One  act  should  ever  be  remembered 
to  his  honor — while  president  of  a  commission,  appointed  to 
framxC  a  penal  code  for  India,  he  incurred  the  greatest  odium 
by  insisting  that  the  nativr-*'  should  in  law-privileges  be  on  an 
equality  with  the  English        ""or  this  he  was  attacked  in  an 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  139 

outrageous  manner  by  Englishmen  in  India,  w-ho  wished  the 
laws  to  discriminate  in  their  favor. 

It  is  far  better  that  Macaulay  is  now  freed  from  the  slavery 
of  politics,  and  engaged  in  literature.  He  is  truly  one  of  the 
most  magnificent  writers  of  this  age,  and  it  is  doubtful  whether 
he  is  not,  as  a  writer  of  gorgeous  prose,  highly  ornamental,  but 
full  of  ideas,  the  most  talented  of  any  man  living.  His  essays 
written  as  he  says  in  the  preface  to  one  edition,  "  when  fresh 
from  college,"  are,  some  of  them,  notwithstanding  the  traces 
of  youth  they  bear,  master-pieces  of  prose-writing.  His  essay 
on  Byron  is  rich  and  satisfying,  while  that  on  Warren  Has 
tings  is  as  fine  biography  as  one  often  meets  with  in  the 
world  of  literature. 

His  books,  notwithstanding  their  beautiful  classicality,  are 
exceedingly  popular  with  the  middle-classes,  and  one  great 
reason  for  this  lies  in  the  fact  that  while  he  is  classical,  he  i? 
not  coldly  so.  He  is  warm,  and  his  heart  beats  manfully 
through  his  pages.  His  ornament  is  always  in  good  taste, 
and  gives  a  color  to  his  writings  which  makes  them  relished 
by  the  people. 

His  publishers  pay  him  highly  for  his  works — the  Long- 
mans pay  him  enormously  for  his  History  of  England.  The 
two  volumes  which  sell  in  America  for  less  than  one  dollar, 
sell  in  England  for  eight.  It  will,  perhaps,  be  thought  that 
the  high  price  must  keep  it  out  of  the  reach  of  all  but  wealthy 
people,  but  such  is  not  the  case.  Circulating  libraries  are 
more  common  in  England  than  with  us,  and  sooner  or  later, 
through  them,  all  intelligent  persons,  if  poor,  get  the  reading 
of  Macaulay's  works.  A  single  circulating  library  in  London 
purchased  one  hundred  copies  of  the  first  volume  of  Macau- 
lay's  last  work,  and  is  in  the  habit  of  purchasing  largely  of 
all  new  books,  yet  the  subscription-price  is  as  low  as  five  dol- 
lars a  year.  This  is  the  lowest  price,  and  for  it  you  only  take 
one  book  at  a  time,  but  it  answers  all  purposes  for  the  pool 


140  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

scholar.  If  you  are  tolerably  rich,  and  live  in  the  country, 
you  can  pay  hign  and  take  thirty  or  forty  books  at  a  time  I 

The  personal  ai-pearance  of  Mr.  Macauiay  is  prepossessing. 
He  is  large  and  full — has  an  oval  face,  whichjs  not  pale  and 
scholar-like,  but  rich  and  ruddy.  His  eyes  are  dark  and 
beautiful,  his  hair  fine  and  curly,  liis  forehead  retreating,  but 
large  and  intellectual.  His  manners  are  refined  but  hearty, 
and  his  conversation  is  exceedingly  interesting  and  brilliant. 
We  need  not  say  that  he  is  welcome  to  any  society — he  is  a 
favorite  among  the  very  highest  in  rank  and  power.  He  is  a 
lion  at  conversational  parties,  and  it  is  thought  talks  some- 
times too  copiously. 

His  early  essays  were  first  collected  and  published  in  Amer- 
ica, and  he  made  the  publication  here  an  excuse  for  the  issue 
of  the  collection  in  England.  With  all  his  home-popularity 
he  probably  has  a  larger  number  of  readers  in  America  than 
in  England. 

BROWNIXG. 

E,oBEE.T  Browning  is  one  of  the  finest-looking  men  among 
the  literary  celebrities  of  London.  There  is  a  classical  beauty 
in  his  features  which  it  is  rare  to  see  out  of  Greece  or  Italy. 
His  hair  is  long,  and  ricli,  and  black ;  his  eyes  are  very 
bright  and  dark  ;  his  forehead,  which  slopes  backward,  is 
capacious,  and  white  as  marble,  and  his  neck  with  the  soft 
whiskers  coming  down  upon  it,  looks  finely.  And  he  is  the 
husband  of  Elizabeth  B.  Barrett — both  poets,  and  both  strik- 
ingly original  in  their  compositions,  Elizabeth  Barrett  was 
for  years  before  her  marriage  with  Mr.  Browning,  the  inmate 
of  a  sick  chamber,  and  for  months  such  was  her  extremely 
delicate  state  that  she  lived  in  darkness,  could  not  bear  even 
the  soft  light  of  the  sky.  After  their  marriage,  th*^  poets 
went  to  Italy,  and  there  was  written  Mrs.  Browning's  poem 
to  her  "  first-born"  child.  # 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  141 

Although  Robert  Browning  is  not  a  popular  poet,  as  he 
wiites  in  too  exalted  a  style  for  the  masses,  yet  his  firstlings 
were  well  received,  after  which  he  went  to  Italy  and  wan- 
dered leisurely  over  its  enchanting  hills  and  valleys.  Four 
years  of  unbroken  silence  followed  his  first  volume,  which  in- 
troduced him  to  the  English  public,  when  his  "  Sordello" 
appeared. 

He  is  regarded  by  the  "  select  few"  as  a  great  but  erratic 
thinker,  while  the  great  majority  of  Englishmen  hardly  know 
his  name.  He  is  better  appreciated  in  America  by  the  peo- 
ple than  in  his  native  land.  His  wife  is  more  popular  than 
himself,  for  she  has  written  poetry  in  homelier  language  than 
he  usually  deigns  to  employ 

BULWER. 

Sir  E.  L.  Bulwer  is  to  be  seen  in  town  during  the  "  sea.- 
Hon,"  as  certain  months  of  the  year  are  termed  by  the  fash- 
ionables of  England.  He  has  one  of  the  most  beautiful  coun- 
try-residences in  England,  the  land  above  all  others  for  fine 
fountry-seats.  It  is  called  Knebworth  Park,  and  lies  in  Hert- 
fordshire, and  was  the  property  of  his  mother,  who  was  the 
daughter  and  heiress  of  Henry  Warburton  Lytton,  Esq.  He 
is  the  youngest  son  of  General  Bulwer,  of  Haydon  Hail,  in  the 
county  of  Norfolk,  and  at  an  early  age  entered  the  House  of 
</oramons,  where  he  distinguished  himself.  He  became  an 
able  political  writer,  but  did  not  allow  politics  to  absorb  all 
his  attention. 

It  is  said  that  to  the  influence  of  his  mother  is  he  indebted 
ibr  his  early  and  strong  love  of  literature.  His  father  died 
while  he  was  young,  and  his  education  was  completely  the 
work  of  his  mother,  who  used  to  give  him,  while  very  young, 
old  ballads  to  read.  He  entered  Cambridge  University  at  aa 
early  age,  and  as  soon  as  he  was  through  it,  made  a  journey 


142  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

of  England  and  Scotland  on  foot,  and  afterwards  wandered 
over  France  on  horseback.  It  is  somewhat  singular  that  all 
the  earher  works  of  Bulwer  are  now  forgotten.  At  twenty- 
one  or  twenty-tM^o,  he  commenced  authorship  in  verse.  His 
first  novel,  entitled  "  Falkland,"  is  now  quite  forgotten. 

The  work  which  first  brought  him  prominently  before  the 
public  was  "  Pelham,"  which  was  very  successful.  He  is 
one  of  the  most  popular  novelists  of  the  age,  but  we  cati 
never  get  to  believe  that  the  effect  of  his  earlier  works  is 
good.  All  his  novels,  save  those  which  have  been  written 
quite  lately,  are  altogether  too  feverish  and  passionate.  Vice 
in  them  wears  too  pleasant  a  garb.  No  one  can  doubt  his 
great  power,  and  beauty  of  diction,  but  his  powers  have  not 
always  been  used  for  the  benefit  of  mankind.  But  his  last 
novels  have  been  of  quite  a  different  character,  being  delight- 
ful home-pictures,  natural  and  without  feverish  and  unhealthy 
passion. 

As  a  man,  Bulwer  is,  and  always  has  been,  popular.  Born 
to  wealth  and  rank,  he  has  worked  hard  as  an  author,  and 
has  been  a  true  friend  of  authors.  You  can  often  see  Dick- 
ens, and  Jerrold,  and  Lemon  and  others,  at  Kneb worth  Park. 
He  has  written  biographies  of  several  of  his  literary  friends 
who  are  now  deceased,  and  among  others  one  of  poor  Laman 
Blanchard,  to  whom  he  was  a'real  friend,  for  in  his  dark  days 
he  not  only  comforted  him  with  cheap  words  of  encourage- 
ment, but  with  substantial  British  gold. 

He  has  many  of  the  prejudices  of  his  order  ;  is  somewhat 
proud,  at  fault  in  his  politics  ;  and  does  not  dare  at  all  times 
to  speak  the  truth.  He  loves  popularity  too  well  to  be  very 
far  in  advance  of  the  times. 

He  is  sometimes  laughed  at  for  his  excessive  nicety  in  his 
dress,  and  when  he  was  in  the  House  of  Commons,  his  politi- 
cal enemies  named  him  "  the  fop."  He  is  perhaps  too  fond 
of  fine  clothes,  but  that  may  be  accounted  for  on  the  score  of 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  143 

his  idealit)  In  fashionable  society  he  is  hked  the  better  foi 
this  failing  for  he  has  exquisite  taste.  He  is  a  fine-looking 
man,  and  is  a  favorite  with  the  sex.  His  forehead  is  sloping, 
but  broad,  and  polished  like  marble.  His  figure  has  some- 
thing aristocratic  in  it,  and  as  he  is  a  genius  as  Avell  as  a  bar- 
onet, no  one  can  dispute  his  right  to  a  lordly  mien.  It  is 
when  we  see  wealth,  or  rank  and  pride  allied  to  that  which 
is  the  opposite  of  genius  or  talent,  that  we  are  seized  with  a 
feeling  of  disgust. 

He  deserves  praise  for  having  the  courage  and  energy  requi- 
site in  a  man  born  to  wealth  and  rank,  to  labor  as  he  has 
done  for  his  present  fame.  There  were  many  temptations  to 
indolence  and  a  life  of  pleasure,  which  poor  scholars  never  en- 
counter, and  yet  he  has  studied  diligently,  and  worked  la- 
boriously, for  which  he  should  have  his  meed  of  praise 

We  cannot  refrain  from  saying  a  few  words  on  William 
Macready,  who  has  taken  leave  of  the  stage  forever.  It  was 
our  good  fortune  to  see  him  once  on  the  boards  of  a  London 
theatre,  with  Mrs.  Fanny  Kemble,  in  King  Lear,  and  ever 
since  that  night  we  have  felt  a  vivid  interest  in  his  personal 
fortunes.  His  public  life  has  been  a  feverish  one — he  has 
seemed  always  to  be  unfortunate — and  yet  fortunate  in  se- 
curing great  fame.  For  many  years  he  struggled  with 
Kean,  until,  as  an  eminent  critic  said,  "  Edmund  Kean,  with 
hands  still  grappling  the  shape-thronged  air,  reeled  away 
half-unconsciously  into  the  darkness." 

Then  he  quarrelled  with  his  manager,  who  would  not  listen- 
to  him  in  matters  of  taste,  and  at  last  he  became  a  manager 
himself.  Yet,  though  acknowledged  to  be  at  the  head  of  his 
art,  the  greatest  tragic  actor  in  the  world,  he  lost  money,  and  was 
obliged  to  go  to  America  to  save  his  health,  and  recruit  his 
purse.  There  he  was  mobbed.  He  returned  to  England,  was 
enthusiastically  received,  and  took  his  leave  forever  of  the  stage. 


I  44  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

While  he  was  manager  of  the  theatre,  he  completely  di- 
vorced Art  from  licentiousness,  and  made  the  theatre  a  moral 
place — but  it  never  paid  as  such. 

He  leaves  the  stage  in  comfortable  health  and  good  pecu- 
niary circumstances.  His  farewell  performance  at  Drury 
Lane  theatre  was  a  scene  ever  to  be  remembered  by  those 
who  were  present,  and  the  dinner  given  in  his  honor  shortly 
after,  was  graced  by  the  presence  of  rank,  genius,  and  power. 

WILLIAM  AND  MARY  HOWITT. 

William  Howitt  is  a  man  of  about  fifty  years  of  age,  and 
iS  possessed  of  a  somewhat  striking  physical  appearance.  He 
is  about  the  average  height,  has  a  tolerably  full  habit,  mild 
blue  eyes  (mild  save  when  his  ire  is  aroused),  and  is  bald 
upon  the  top  of  his  head  and  forehead.  What  hair  he  has  is 
white  as  snow,  and  gives  to  him  an  almost  singular  appear- 
ance. In  his  manners  he  is  a  gentleman,  not  so  much  from 
a  regard  for  conventionalism,  as  from  the  promptings  of  a 
kind  nature.  In  conversation  he  is  one  of  the  most  interest- 
ing men  it  was  ever  our  chance  to  meet  in  life.  He  has  a3a 
incthaustible  fund  of  anecdote  and  humor,  and  is  especiaM^ 
tt  home  while  talking  of  the  country  and  country  things. 
He  is  impulsive,  and  speaks  abruptly  sometimes,  but  one 
could  hear  him  relate  his  stories  and  adventures  for  hours, 
%vithout  tiring.  He  imparts  to  all  he  says  a  peculiar  poetic 
haim  ;  if  you  are  out  of  a  summer  evening  on  the  lawn, 
with  the  nioonlight  making  shadows  all  around  you,  he  will 
tell  some  strange  and  thrilling  stories  of  ghosts  and  ghost-life 
that  w;ll  chill  you  through. 

Mat  f  Ho  WITT  is  a  few  years  younger  than  her  husband, 
has  a  matronly  look,  and  would  never  be  taken  for  an  au- 
thoress.    You  would  call  her  the  model  of  a  wife  or  mother, 

kind  and  gentle  is  she  in  all  her  actions.     Physically  speak- 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  145 

ing,  she  IS  strong,  large-made,  and  full  of  vigor.  She  hag 
more  life  in  her  than  in  half  a  dozen  young  women  of  fashion. 
Yet  she  is  exceedingly  graceful,  and  if  not  strictly  beautiful, 
after  an  artist's  heart,  she  is  more  than  beautiful.  Her  face 
is  always  in  a  smiling  repose,  and  her  eyes  have  a  mingled 
expression  of  love  and  intellect,  which  constitutes  them,  to 
our  thinking,  very  beautiful.  Personally,  aside  from  her 
qualities  as  an  authoress,  she  is  very  popular.  We  doubt  if 
any  one  ever  knew  her  without  loving  her  character.  There 
is  an  inexpressible  charm  in  her  ways  and  manners,  just  as 
there  is  in  her  books.  Although  her  features  are  irregular, 
and  not  strictly  handsome,  we  have  seen  her  among  a  room 
full  of  ladies,  when  some  of  those  present  were  acknowledged 
by  all  to  be  exceedingly  beautiful,  yet  Mary  Howitt  was — 
and  you  could  not  help  but  feel  it — queen  among  them  all. 
She  has,  while  standing,  an  air  of  lofty,  commanding  sweet- 
ness, which  pleases  and  enchains  the  stranger.  But  you 
would  not  take  her  for  an  authoress.  You  would  call  her  a 
proper  character  to  figure  in  fiction  rather  than  a  creator  of 
such  characters. 

When  we  first  became  acquainted  with  the  Howitts,  they 
were  living  at  "  Th<^  Elms,"  in  Clapton,  a  suburb  of  London. 
They  were  then  suffering  from  the  wrong-dealing  of  John 
Saunders,  of  the  Peoj^le's  Journal,  who  had  ruined  them  pe- 
cuniarily. We  shall  always  feel  glad  that  we  knew  them 
then,  for  one  can  never  know  thoroughly  what  a  noble  spirit 
is,  unless  he  sees  it  in  adversity.  Mary  Howitt  was  then  as 
gentle,  loving,  and  hopeful  as  ever,  and  the  whole  family 
seemed  to  love  each  other  better,  and  to  struggle  manfully 
against  all  difficulties  with  brave  courage.  Said  a  friend  of 
ours  who  was  entrusted  with  some  of  the  unfortunate  busi- 
ness connected  with  the  disasters  which  beset  them,  and  Avho 
had  much  to  do  with  the  family  as  a  confidential  friend  : 

"  She  is  more  beautiful  m  adversity  than  in  prosperity,"—. 
^  10 


146  WHAT    I    SAW    IN  .LONDON. 

and  he  was  right.     With  true  courage  both  William  and 

Mary  Howitt  struggled  onward,   and   are  again  prosperous. 

They  now  live  in  the  western  part  of  London,  not  far  from 

the  western  extremity  of  Regent's  Park,  and  have  a  quiet  and 

beautiful  home. 

They  have  four  children.      The  eldest,  Anna  Mary  Howitt, 

is  a  young  lady  who  has  ah'eady  distinguished  herself  as  an 

artist,  and  who  promises  well  for  the  future. 

The  second,  Alfred  Howitt,  is  a  young  man  of  twenty,  of 
promising  talents,  and  w^ho,  we  believe,  looks  forw^ard  to  a 
barrister's  life.  The  remaining  two,  "  Charlton  and  Maggy," 
are  young,  and  in  the  midst  of  their  school-days. 

Although  Mrs.  Howitt  is  a  voluminous  author,  yet  there  is 
not  a  more  careful  wife,  or  mother,  or  housekeeper  in  London. 
The  mother  never  sinks  into  the  author,  and  she  has  not  the 
slightest  tinge  of  the  blue-stocking  in  her  manners.  One 
might  converse  with  her  for  days,  if  he  were  no  author  or 
admirer  of  literature,  and  never  perceive  that  he  was  talking 
with  a  woman  whose  whole  life  has  been  one  of  authorship. 
She  has  a  happy  faculty  of  adapting  herself  to  circumstances, 
and  makes  herself  agreeable  to  all. 

Marriages  between  literary  persons  are  not  usually  happy 
ones,  but  in  the  present  instance  the  general  rule  is  at  fault, 
for  never  was  there  a  happier  couple  than  William  and  Mary 
Howitt.  Their  names  are  always  spoken  together ;  they 
have  been  associated  so  intimately  in  authorship  that  it  sounds 
unnatural  to  mention  one  name  without  the  other.  The 
names  are  intermarried,  and  should  ne\'^er  be  "  put  asunder,"  ' 
William  Ho^vitt  was  born  in  Derbyshire,  and  his  ancestors 
for  many  generations  were  respectable  landed  proprietors. 
They  were  proverbially  fond  of  the  country,  and  country 
pleasures.  One  of  them,  in  the  time  of  Glueen  Elizabeth, 
married  into  the  Middleton  family,  and  became  exceedingly 
rich,  but  the  love  of  ease  and  good  cheer  in  the  descendants 


PRItSONS    OF    NOTE.  H*/ 

was  their  bane,  and  their  broad  lands  slipped  away,  piece  bj 
piece,  until  the  original  estates  were  scattered  to  the  winds. 
William  Hewitt's  father,  Mr.  Thomas  Howitt,  being  a  man 
of  energy,  retrieved  the  fortunes  of  the  family,  and  secured  for 
himself  a  fine  property.  He  married  a  Miss  Tantum,  who 
was  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends,  and,  according  to  the 
rules  of  the  Society,  became  a  member. 

William  Howitt  is  one  of  six  brothers,  and  was  educated  at 
various  schools  of  the  Friends,  but  never  received  what  is 
styled  a  liberal  education.  ^During  his  boyhood  he  was  ex- 
tremely fond  of  country  sports,  was  a  great  birds-nester,  and 
this  love  of  country  has  never  died  within  his  heart.  He 
became  a  chemist,  and  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  married 
Miss  Mary  Botham  of  Uttoxeter,  in  Staffordshire,  who  was 
also  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends.  She  is  the  present 
world-known  Mary  Howitt. 

Mrs.  Howitt's  ancestors  were  not  unknown  to  the  world  ; 
her  great-grandfather,  William  Wood,  was  the  Irish  patentee 
who  minted  half-pence  for*  the  Government  of  George  II. 
under  a  contract,  which  Dean  Swift  in  his  "  Drapier's  Letters" 
made  so  much  noise  about  that  they  were  not  accepted, 
though  Sir  Isaac  IsTewton  pronounced  them  better  than  the 
contract  required,  and  he  lost  over  £60,000.  The  grand- 
father of  Mrs.  Howitt  was  assay-master  in  Jamaica,  and  was 
the  first  person  who  brought  platinum  into  Europe. 

Previous  to  their  marriage,  neither  William  nor  Mary  Howitt 
had  made  themselves  known  as  authors  or  writers,  but  shortly 
after,  they  published  jointly  a  volume  of  poetry  under  the 
title  of  "  The  Forest  Minstrel,"  which  was  received  with 
universal  commendation. 

Not  long  after  their  marriage,  they  made  a  journey  into 
Scotland  ;  landed  at  Dumbarton,  and  travelled  over  its  lofty 
hills,  and  among  its  beautiful  lakes.  They  journeyed  a 
thousand  miles,  and  over  five  hundred  of  it  on  foot.     What 


148  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOX. 

do  the  Ameiican  women  think  of  this  feat  ?  A  foot-journey 
of  five  hundred  miles  for  a  young  bride's  honeymoon  tour  I 
They  looked  from  the  lofty  Ben  Lomond,  saw  Loch  Katrine, 
and  when  they  visited  Gretna  Green,  the  inhabitants  all 
nrned  out,  thinking  that  they  were  a  young  couple  come  to 
e  married  I 

Upon  their  return  to  Nottingham,  they  published  another 
joint  volume  of  poetry,  which  added  much  to  their  reputation. 
Mr.  Howitt  began  to  write  for  the  Magazines  ;  Mrs.  Howitt 
continued  her  ballad-writing,  in  which  she  surpasses  almost 
^very  other  living  writer. 

Although  they  v/ere  by  this  time  well  known,  yet  Mr 
Howitt  had  not  published  any  work  in  prose,  but  in  1S32  he 
wrote  his  popular  "  Book  of  the  Seasons."  He  could  not  sell 
the  manuscript  for  a  long  time.  Four  of  the  most  noted 
publishing  houses  in  the  kingdom  rejected  it,  and  the  author 
was  nearly  sick  of  authorship.  At  last  Mr.  Bently  took  it, 
and  since  then  a  dozen  large  editions  have  been  sold,  and  it 
sells  as  well  to-day  as  it  did  twenty  years  ago.  At  once  it 
received  a  universal  welcome,  and  the  author  became  still 
more  famous  than  before.  Two  years  after  he  published  his 
"History  of  Priestcraft,"  which  has  also  become. a  standard 
work.  In  it  he  is  entirely  unlike  himself  in  his  books  on 
nature.  Li  the  one  he  is  all  love  and  kindness — in  the  other 
full  of  sarcasm  and  passionate  eloquence.  Such  is  his  rea' 
character — a  compound  of  gentleness  and  love,  passion  an'' 
power. 

All  this  time,  Mr.  Howitt  was  a  citizen  of  Nottingham,  bu 
becoming  faA^orably  known  to  his  fellow-townsmen  as  a 
liberalist,  he  was  elected  Alderman  of  the  borough.  Had  he 
possessed  a  large  fortune,  he  might  have  secured  fame  as  a 
politician,  but,  as  he  was  only  moderately  wealthy,  he  re- 
moved to  Esher,  where  he  could  devote  himself  to  literature 
While  there,  he  and  his*  wife  published  several  works,  and 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  149 

made  a  journey  into  the  north  of  England,  and  spent  some 
time  with  Wordsworth  at  the  lakes.  The  "  Visits  to  Re- 
markable Places,"  "  Boy's  Country  Book,"  &c.,  &-c.,  appeared 
about  this  time. 

Alter  remaining  at  Esher  three  years,  they  went  into 
Germany,  and  settled  down  at  Heidelberg,  and  visited  all 
parts  of  Germany.  They  were  there  three  years,  and  Mr. 
Howitt  wrote  his  "  Student  Life  of  Germany,"  and  "  Rural 
Life  of  Germany  ;"  the  last  was  reprinted  in  Germany,  and 
highly  commended  by  the  ablest  of  German  critics. 

Here  they  became  acquainted  with  an  English  family 
which  had  resided  in  Sweden,  and  was  enthusiastically  in 
love  with  Swedish  literature.  Mary  Howitt  began  its  study, 
and  soon  was  entranced  with  the  fiction  of  Frederika  Bremer. 

"When  they  returned  to  England,  she  began  her  translations 
of  Miss  Bremer's  Tales  of  Domestic  Life  in  Sweden,  which 
created  a  great  sensation  throughout  England  and  America, 
and  for  awhile  such  was  the  demand  for  them,  that  both 
William  and  Mary  Howitt  were  constantly  engaged  in  trans- 
lating, though  all  of  them  were  issued  in  her  name. 

The  establishment  of  the  "People's  and  Hewitt's  Journal,'' 
was  a  most  unfortunate  circumstance,  as  through  connecting 
themselves  with  an  unprincipled  man,  they  were  pecuniarily 
ruined.  But  ill-fortune  did  not  crush  them,  and  since  then 
they  have  published  some  of  their  most  delightful  books. 

A  few  years  since  a  book  was  published  in  London  under  the 
title  of  "  The  Aristocracy  of  England,  by  John  Hampden,  Jr.,'' 
which  created  considerable  sensation.  It  is  one  of  the  most 
thorough  and  caustic  attacks  upon  the  British  aristocra:y 
which  we  ever  read.  It  had  a  large  sale,  and  sells  now 
almost,  or  quite  as  well  as  it  sold  at  first,  for  it  is  a  hand-book 
for  all  those  who  are  dissatisfied  with  the  oppression  of  the 
nobility  of  England.  The  "  John  Hampden,  Jr."  is  a  false 
name  which  really  means  "  William  Howitt,"  for  he  is  th« 


150  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

author  of  the  book.  He  is  also  the  author  of  many  other 
creditable  works. 

Although  educated  as  Friends,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Howilt  long 
ago  gave  up  their  distinctiveness  of  dress,  and  are  never  known 
or  spoken  of  as  Friends.  The  love  of  religious  liberty,  tbe 
cordial  hatred  of  priestcraft  which  distinguishes  that  Society, 
they  share  to  this  day  with  them,  and  there  is  a  simplicity  in 
their  lives  which  is  in  harmony  with  the  religious  principles 
of  that  noble  sect,  hut  they  are  not  distinctively  members  of 
the  Society. 

They  have  for  years  been  peculiarly  hospitable  to  Americans, 
and  one  almost  always  finds  one  there  on  their  evenings  of 
reception. 

The  qualities  of  each  as  authors  are  plainly  perceptible  in 
a  conversation.  In  Mary  Howitt,  you  feel  all  that  charming 
gentleness  and  loveful  beauty  which  shines  forth  in  her 
books.  In  William  Howitt  you  see  his  strong  love  for  the 
country,  and  old  haunts  and  castles,  in  the  tales  about  them 
with  which  he  will  regale  your  appetites,  if  you  have  any  for 
the  wild  and  marvellous.  He  is  fonder  of  German  stories 
and  wild  legends  ;  Mary  Howitt  of  pleasant  tales  of  sunhght 
love,  and  of  flowers  and  smiling  fields — and  both  are  poets. 

We  will  allude  here,  for  a  moment,  to  a  somewhat  singu- 
lar literary  character  in  London— Gr.  W.  M.  Reynolds.  He 
has  no  claims  among  the  really  great  or  good,  for  he  is  not 
only  a  second-rate  writer  and  author,  but  he  lacks  morality 
in  his  WTitings.  Charles  Dickens  says  of  him,  "  his  writings 
are  a  national  reproach,"  and  he  never  uttered  a  truer  saying. 
He  has  a  worse  morality  than  Paul  de  Kock,  and  lacks  his 
genius.  Yet  his  books  have  a  tremendous  circulation  over 
England,  and  indeed  in  this  country.  He  writes  only  for 
money,  and  cares  not  how  many  hearts  he  fills  with  pollution 
80  long  as  he  gains  gold.     He  is,  however,  shut  out  of  all  gopd 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  151 

society  in  England,  because  of  his  wretched  principles.  Sin, 
in  his  pages,  is  painted  in  the  most  attractive  colors  ;  it  is  true 
>'  ^t  he  claims  that  there  is  always  a  moral  in  them,  but  the 
tendency  of  all  his  books  is  bad. 

He  has  a  good  personal  appearance,  and  sometimes  at- 
tempts to  address  reform-meetings,  but  the  people  will  not 
often  hear  him.  Such  a  man  does  more  to  corrupt  a  nation 
than  a  hundred  common  propagators  of  infidelity,  for  he 
educes  the  young  by  glowing  pictures  of  sensuality  and  crime. 
He  professes  to  draw  his  stories  from  actual  London  life,  but 
if  such  were  the  case,  it  is  no  apology  for  him.  The  truth  is 
not  to  be  portrayed  to  all  minds  in  the  style  of  his  writings. 

m  THOMAS  CARLYLE. 

Thomas  Carlyle  is  one  of  the  first  among  the  literary 
celebrities  of  London.  We  should  not  venture  to  write  much 
concerning  him,  since  he  has  characterized  us  as  "  a  nation  of 
bores,"  only  that  we  have  the  pleasant  consolation  of  feeling 
that  we  never  even  so  much  as  looked  at  his  dwelling-house. 
Any  American  who,  after  all  that  Mr.  Carlyle  has  written  of 
"bores,"  will  persist  in  trying  to  see  him,  must  indeed  be  a 
man  of  energetic  impudence.  The  "  Latter  Day  Pamphlets" 
have  been  bitterly  received  in  England,  as  well  as  here — even 
his  best  friends  were  displeased  with  them.  But  Mr.  Carlyle 
should  not,  and  will  not  be  judged  by  those  pamphlets.  His 
recent  book,  "  The  Life  of  John  Stirling,"  proves  that  the 
hand  that  wrote  the  life  of  Schiller  has  not  lost  its  cunning. 
No  one  can  doubt  his  great  intellect — no  one  can  doubt  his 
masterly  genius  He  has  heart  too,  and  earnest  sympathies 
for  humanity.  He  cares  little  for  rank  ;  gewgaws  cannot 
blind  him  to  that  which  is  hid  beneath  them.  He  is  a  wild, 
earnest,  mysterious  Scotchman.  Who  needs  to  be  told  that 
his  style  is  strange  and  fantastical  ?     Some  call  it  affectation 


162  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

— others  his  natural  utterance.  His  life  has  been  a  singular 
one,  and  men  write  from  their  lives.  A  happy  experience 
may  color  his  style  with  rainbow  hues,  while  darkness  and 
6uflering  may  have  a  contrary  effect.  It  is  at  any  rate  true, 
that  Thomas  Carlyle  has  walked  through  dark  places,  and 
has  had  a  sombre  experience.  His  style  might  have  been  far 
different  from  what  it  is,  had  he  not  wrestled  with  the  world 
as  few  men  do. 

He  was  born  in  the  south  of  Scotland,  but  at  a  young  age 
went  to  Germany,  whejre  he  remained  for  years.  He  became 
thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  German  language,  and  with 
rnany  distinguished  literary  men,  in  Germany.  He  became 
the  attached  friend  of  the  great  Goethe,  and  the  attachment 
was  mutual. 

He  came  beiore  the  English  world  first  through  the  maga- 
zines, and  anonymously,  but  his  original  style  and  great  ener- 
gy of  thought  could  not  fail  to  attract  attention.  His  first 
book  appeared  in  1826,  and  was  a  translation  of  Goethe's 
"  Wilhelm  Meister."  Then  came  a  life  of  SchilJer,  and 
afterward,  a  German  E.omance.  His  later  works  we  need 
not  mention,  for  they  are  better  known  in  America  than  in 
England.     He  is  indeed  more  popular  here  than  at  home. 

From  the  first,  Carlyle  has  had  a  hard  life  to  live.  In  early 
life  he  was  not  at  all  successful.  He  was  bitterly  criticized, 
and  the  world  did  not,  as  in  the  case  of  many  authors,  rush 
in  between  critic  and  author  for  the  latter's  defence.  His 
books  were  not  popular,  nor  was  he  acknowledged  to  be  a 
great  writer.  There  were  a  few  who  clung  to  him,  and  they 
only  partially  understood  him.  The  majority  of  men  would 
have  lost  heart,  but  for  years  he  struggled  on,  and  never 
thought  of  despairing. 

His  life  of  Schiller  was  received  at  first  with  surprising 
coldness,  and  yet  was  so   highly  praised  in   Germany,  that 


PIRSONS    OF    NOTE.  153 

G  jethe  translated  it  into  the  German,  and  bestowed  the  high- 
est compliments  on  Mr.  Carlyle. 

It  is  singular  how  for  years  his  books  were  neglected. 
Volume  after  volume  came  dead-born  from  the  press,  as  it 
were,  and  yet  the  brave  spirit  of  the  heroic  Scotchman  was 
not  to  be  conquered.  In  1832  he  added  something  to  the 
sale  of  his  books  by  a  series  of  lectures  delivered  at  the  West 
End  of  London,  and  though  his  audiences  were  small,  yet 
they  were  composed  of  the  wealthy  and  powerful.  The 
fashionables  made  the  discovery  that^^he  had  genius,  and  at 
once  his  books  began  to  sell.  He  has  lectured  many  times 
since  then  in  different  parts  of  London,  but  always  to  com- 
paratively small,  though  exceedingly  refined  audiences. 

He  is  perhaps  the  most  awkward  public  speaker  one  could 
hear  for  a  twelve-month,  even  in  such  a  place  as  London. 
He  uses  very  little  gesture,  rubs  his  hands  together,  screws  his 
mouth  up  into  all  manner  of  shapes,  and  yet  his  dark  eyes  shine 
with  earnest  enthusiasm,  and  his  whole  person  bears  the  im- 
press of  solemn  earnestness.  And  then  the  "matter  richly 
compensates  for  the  lack  oi  mariner.  He  opens  to  your  view 
brilliants  and  diamonds,  and  whole  veins  of  shining  ore,  and 
yet  it  is  done  in  an  abrupt  and  disjointed  style.  You  are 
jerked  along  hither  and  thither  ;  made  to  stumble  over  this 
and  that  uncouth  sentence,  yet  you  get  such  glimpses  of 
beauty  and  grandeur  that  you  dare  not  complain  I 

The  tone  of  his  voice  is  harsh  and  unpleasant — he  has  no 
control  over  it  whatever,  and  some  of  his  delicate  admirers 
make  complaint  of  this.  His  style  of  speaking  is  a  good  deal 
like  his  style  of  writing — it  is  unpleasant,  yet  the  matter  re- 
deems all. 

England  is  the  greatest  place  we  ever  yet  were  in  for  de- 
manding an  author's  religious  opinions.  Every  author,  every 
stranger,  is  asked  the  exact  state  of  his  religious  belief  Mr. 
Tarlyle  has  been  questioned,  but   is  too  proud  to  answer  his 

G* 


154  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

inquisitors.  His  religious  belief  was  with  himself  and  his 
fxod.  Many  accuse  him  of  being  a  Deist,  but  we  do  not  credit 
the  accusation.  He  probably  is  latitudinarian  in  his  views  of 
the  Bible,  but  is  no  infidel. 

It  is  said  that  Mr.  Carlyle  has  a  small  property,  from  which 
he  derives  a  slender  income  aside  frofn  that  Yi^iieh  comes  from 
his  published  works.  He  lives  very  plainly  in  Chelsea,  a  sub- 
urb of  London,  on  the  southern  bank  of  the  Thames. 

He  is  tall  and  slender  in  his  person,  has  dark  hair  and  a 
dark  countenance  also.  His  forehead  is  high,  but  not  broad 
—his  face  ia  poor,  and  his  cheek-bones  are  conspicuous.  He 
IS  getting  to  look  old,  and  in  fact  getting  to  be  advanced  in 
years 

He  has  little  of  what  is  styled  politeness — so  say  some  of 
his  intimate  friends — and  does  not  knov/  how  to  bandy  com- 
pliments. But  to  those  whom  he  loves  he  is  kind  and  affec- 
iionate. 

People  will  have  their  own  opinions  of  Thomas  Carlyle  as 
Ru  author  and  a  man — ours  are  that  fie  has  extraordinary 
genius,  but  that  there  is  a  certain  amount  of  "  sheer  fudge" 
mixed  with  it.  His  notions  respecting  human  government 
show  how  genseless  a  great  man  can  be  at  times."  Almost 
any  other  man  would  be  dubbed  a  fool  for  publishing  such 
nonsense. 

The  position  of  a  literary  man  in  England  is  not  so  high  as 
m  France.  If  he  be  exceedingly  distinguished,  the  aristocracy 
and  nobility  are  ready  to  do  him  honor  in  a  2Jatronizi77g 
manner.  In  France,  the  literary  man  takes  the  first  rank  in 
society— Vt^ealth  and  blood  retreat  before  the  advent  of  genius. 
No  man  in  social  position  stands  higher  in  France  than  La- 
raartine.  Dickens  in  England  is  as  niuch  respected,  but  is  in- 
ferior in  social  position  to  Lamartine.  There  is  too  much 
worship  for  mere  rank  in  England  to  give  Genius  a  fair 
chance.     Thomas  Carlyle  in  France  or  in  Germany,  would 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  155 

be  a  greater  character,  in  social  respects,  than  he  is  in  Eng- 
land, 

EBENEZER  ELLIOTT. 

Ebenezer  Elliott,  the  "  Corn  Law  Rhymer,"  the  "Poet 
of  the  Poor,"  is  dead,  but  it  is  one  of  our  happiest  thoughts 
that  we  once  met  him,  heard  the  eloquence  of  his  lips,  and 
pazed  at  the  sweet,  though  passionate  enthusiasm  of  his  face. 
He  died  the  first  day  of  December,  1849,  at  his  own  resi- 
dence, not  far  from  Sheffield,  where  he  used  to  carry  on  the 
iron  business. 

We  can  see  him  now  as  we  saw  him  that  rare  night  in 
London  (he  was  not  often  in  London),  sitting  by  a  pleasant 
coal-fire,  with  his  gray  hair  and  rugged  countenance,  upon 
which  usually  there  was  a  smile.  We  can  see  those  clear, 
blue  eyes  of  his,  and  the  brilliant  flashes  which  they  gave 
forth  as  sentiment  required,  and  even  the  tone  of  his  voice  is 
still  in  our  ears.  He  used  to  talk  with  great  force — his  sen- 
tences were  energetic  and  abrupt.  We  need  not  speak  of 
his  poetry— the  world  has  given  him  his  niche  of  honor.  In 
conversation,  he  was  always  fuJl  to  the  brim  of  animation, 
and  was  the  soul  of  a  literary  party.  One  who  was  not  ac- 
quainted with  his  characteristics,  would  have  taken  him  to 
be  an  awful  man,  for  when  he  was  fired  up  he  looked  the 
stern  enthusiasm  of  his  nature  There  was  no  half-way  feel- 
mg  about  the  man — if  his  indignation  was  excited  at  all,  it 
was  in  an  almost  terrific  manner.  His  pathos  was  entirely 
free  from  namby-pamby  ism— it  was  clear,  and  touching,  and 
hardly  ever  failed  to  draw  tears  from  the  hearts  of  those  who 
read  him.  Sweet  and  mild  as  the  carol  of  an  early  spring 
bird  are  some  of  his  lays,  v/hile  others,  and  the  majority,  are 
full  of  the  bitterest  and  most  powerful  indignation.  He  is 
terse  in  expression,  and  is  sometimes  accused  of  needless 
harshness.     It  may  be  so,  but  the  man  had  a  hard-heirtcd 


156  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

set  of  men  to  deal  with,  when  he  sang  songs  against  the 
English  aristocracy.  In  early  life  he  had  a  hard  lot,  suffer- 
ing from  constitutional  sensitiveness,  and  there  is  a  fair  ex- 
cuse for  his  burning  plaints  of  indignation  and  scorn.  He 
is  a  strong  prose-writer,  but  the  world  knows  very  little 
of  him  in  that  character.  His  command  of  the  strongest 
Saxon  is  wonderful— he  crushes  an  enemy  into  nonentity — 
yet  the  poet  is  a  man  of  finest  pathos  and  sensibilities.  He  it 
was  who  wrote  of  a  dying  boy  : — 

"  Before-  thy  leaves  thou  com'st  once  more, 

White  blossom  of  the  sloe  ! 
Thy  leaves  will  come  as  heretofore, 
But  this  poor  heart,  its  troubles  o'er, 

Will  then  lie  low. 

***** 

"  Then  panting  woods  the  breeze  will  feel, 

And  bowers,  as  heretofore, 
Beneath  their  load  of  roses  reel ; 
But  I  through  woodbine-leaves  shall  steal 

No  more — no  more  ! 

"  Well,  lay  me  by  my  brother's  side, 
Where  late  we  stood  and  wept, 
For  I  was  stricken  when  he  died— - 
I  felt  the  arrow  when  he  sighed 
His  last  and  slept." 

"We  saw  the  poet  at  a  literary  re-union  m  the  great  me» 
tropolis,  and  well  remember  how  joyous  the  party  was  when 
the  name  of  "  Ebenezer  Elliott''  was  announced.  We  had 
longed  for  a  sight  of  the  veteran  poet  and  reformer — the  man 
who  by  his  verses  could  rouse  a  nation  to  their  duty.  When 
he  entered  the  drawing-room,  we  almost  all  rose  to  do  him 
honor.  His  hair  was  bushy  and  gray ;  his  forehead  high, 
broad,  and  compact ;  he  Vv^as  tall  and  sinewy  in  frame  ;  when 
he  was  still,  his  eyes  were  of  a  cold  blue,  but  when  he  wa» 


PERSONS    OF    NOTE.  157 

excited,  they  stirred  you  with  their  brilliance  and  various 
shades  of  emotion  ;  his  eyebrows  were  large,  and  gave  him  a 
wild  appearance  ;  his  face  was  broad  and  marked  with  char 
acter  and  decision,  and  his  lips  closed  together  with  that  ex 
pression  of  almost  dogged  firmness,  which  few  possess. 

He  sat  down  and  conversed  pleasantly  for  awhile  ;  but  at 
length  some  person  made  a  careless  political  remark  reflecting 
on  the  people  of  England,  and  extolling  the  nobility.  Then 
the  old  man's  eyes  flashed,  and  his  frame  quivered  with  emo- 
tion. When  his  tongue  was  fairly  loosed,  he  came  down 
upon  the  extollers  of  the  nobility  with  tremendous  power. 
His  words  were  thick  and  abrupt ;  terse,  and  bitter,  and  ve- 
hement, and  yet  you  felt  that  all  he  said  was  not  against  the 
utterer  of  the  sentiment,  but  the  sentim.ent  itself. 

Ebenezer  Elliott  was  born  in  March,  1781,  and  was  con- 
sequently over  sixty-eight  years  old  when  he  died.  His  father 
was  clerk  in  some  iron-works  near  E-otherham,  and  received  a 
salary  of  X300  a  year,  which  in  those  days  was  considered  a 
large  salary. 

In  his  youth  it  is  said  that  the  poet  was  distinguished  for 
two  qualities — a  keen  sensitiveness  and  an  inability  to  make 
any  progress  at  school.  He  says  of  himself,  that  his  stupidity 
was  made  worse  by  the  help  of  a  schoolfellow,  who  was  in 
the  habit  of  solving  his  arithmetical  problems  for  him,  so  that 
he  got  over  as  far  as  the  rule-of-three  without  understanding 
numeration,  addition,  subtraction  or  division  I  His  old  school- 
master, after  many  eflbrts,  gave  him  up  for  a  dunce,  and  his  fa- 
ther, after  finding  that  he  knew  nothing  from  his  books,  put  him 
at  hard  work  in  an  iron-foundry  near  by.  He  had  a  brother, 
named  Giles,  whom  everybody  said  was  smart,  and  who  was 
clerk  in  the  counting-room  of  young  Ebenezer's  employers. 
Many  a  time  he  wept,  alone  in  his  little  bed-chamber,  over 
his  situation  and  his  sad  ignorance,  and  there  alone  did  he 
make  vows  which  were  the  secret  of  his  after  greatness. 


15S  WHAT    I    SAW    iX    LONDON. 

One  of  his  youthful  friends  was  Joseph  Rarasbotham,  thi 
son  of  the  old  school  maiter  who  had  decided  that  he  was  a 
dunce,  and  this  friend  clung  to  him,  and  as  he  was  fitting 
himself  to  enter  the  ministry,  his  studies  were  of  the  higher 
clasB.  Young  Elliott  used  to  hear  him  recite  Greek  poetry, 
and  was  entranced  with  the  music  of  the  ver.«c,  without  un- 
derstanding a  syllable  of  what  he  heard.  He  committed  to 
memory  the  introductory  lines  of  the  Iliad,  and  in  after-life 
was  fond  of  repeating  them  as  remembrances  of  his  boyhood. 

At  this  time  in  the  poet's  history  he  suffered  the  aeutest 
misery,  and  it  is  said  that  previous  to  his  death  he  commenced 
an  autobiography,  but  when  he  got  as  far  as  this  part  of  bis 
life  he  could  not  bear  to  dwell  upon  it,  and  threw  the  manu- 
script into  the  fire,  v/ith  his  eyes  flooded  with  tears. 

He  came  to  Sheffield  six  or  eight  hundred  dollars  in  debt, 
and  commenced  the  iron  business.  Year  followed  year,  and 
yet  he  was  unsuccesgful,  until,  at  la?t.  after  enduring  every 
hardship,  he  was  happy  in  business  He  grew  rich  fast,  and 
had  not  the  great  panic  of  1837  overtaken  him  in  the  midst 
of  trade,  he  would  have  been  an  immensly  wealthy  man. 
As  it  ^vas  he  lost  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  dollars,  and  was 
glad  to  retreat  from  the  manufacture  of  bar-iron.  He  built 
himself  a  fine  villa,  out  of  town,  enclosed  by  an  acre  of  beau- 
tiful ground,  which  was  surrounded  by  a  high  wall,  shutting 
out  all  sights  of  the  manufacturing  town. 

With  his  sons  he  again  went  into  business  in  the  iron  and 
steel  trade,  and  was  at  the  time  of  his  death  engaged  in  it, 
though  not  personally  attentive  to  it.  His  office  in  the  iron 
warehouse  used  to  be  reckoned  a  place  of  great  curiosity,  for 
alongside  ponderous  ledgers,  amid  dust  and  smoke,  were  vol- 
umes of  Shakspeare,  and  Milton,  and  Dante,  and  all  the 
master-poets.  Here  he  would  sit  and  write  entries  in  hia 
ledgers,  or  poetry,  letters  of  buiiness,  or  prose  for  the  press. 

The  literary  history  of  the  poet  is  full  of  interest,  but  wc 


PERSONS    OF    NOtE.  159 

can  only  allude  to  it.  From  the  day  on  which  the  young 
Ramsbotham  recited  Greek  poetry  to  him,  he  \yas  filled  with 
a  burning  desire  himself  to  express  his  thoughts  in  rhyme. 
He  applied  himself  to  his  books,  became  a  proficient  in  mathe- 
matics, a  fine  reader,  a  handy  chirographer,  and  well  read  in 
general  literature.  His  first  poems  were  written  in  defence 
of  the  poor,  and  a.s  at  that  time  the  critics  were  all  in  the 
employ  of  rich  and  noble  men,  they  did  not  deign  to  no- 
tice the  poet  of  the  poor,  or  only  sneered  at  his  rhymes. 
But  he  who  could  make  a  fortune  out  of  nothing  was  not  to 
be  disheartened  at  this,  but  continued  to  ponr  forth  touching 
and  beautiful  gongs,  with  those  that  were  harsh  with  indig- 
natory  eloquence.  The  keenness  of  his  satire  could  not  fail  of 
attracting  the  notice  of  his  aristocratical  opponents,  and  their 
notices  of  him  were  &uch  as  to  add  fire  to  Elliott's  heart.  In 
the  great  Corn-Law  straggle  he  battled  like  a  giant  for  cheap 
bread,  and  the  nation  hailed  him  as  one  of  its  deliverers. 

The  critics  at  last  gave  in,  and  admitted  that  he  iva?>  a 
poet.  So  he  won  a  fame  and  a  fortune  together !  He 
"  weighed  out  iron  and  ideas — took  in  gold  and  glory  !"  He 
was  sick  for  several  months  previous  to  his  death,  and  when 
it  seized  upon  him  was  engaged  in  the  revision  of  an  en- 
larged edition  of  his  poetic  works  for  the  press.  During  his 
last  illness  he  composed  several  beautiful  poems.  His  descend- 
ants are  five  sons  and  two  daughters.  Three  of  the  former 
carry  on  the  old  business  at  Sheffield,  while  the  other  two  ar© 
Church-of-England  clergyroeK. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

EE  M  A  RKABLE    PLACES 

BILLINGSGATE    MARKET. 

Foul  language  is  often  characterized  as  "  billingsgate," 
but  we  dare  say  there  are  some  in  America  who  use  the  word 
without  understanding  its  origin.  It  comes  from  the  great 
fish-market  in  London,  called  Billingsgate.  It  is  the  only 
wholesale  fish-market  in  London,  and  necessarily  is  a  scene 
of  great  confusion.  The  people  who  do  business  in  it  are  a 
low  and  dirty  class,  and  at  all  hours  of  the  day  the  market  is 
the  scene  of  noise,  confusion,  and  filth.  By  degrees  the  peo- 
ple got  to  calling  language  which  was  foul  and  noisy,  "  bil- 
lingsgate." 

Tha  market  opens  as  early  as  three  or  four  o'clock  in  win- 
ter, and  in  summer  by  two. 

One  frosty  morning  in  winter  we  arose  early  with  a  friend 
to  make  it  a  visit.  The  stars  shone  brightly  as  we  turned 
into  the  still  deserted  streets,  and  it  seemed  a  relief  for  once 
to  thread  the  streets  of  busy  London  and  find  them  silent. 
Not  a  soul  was  abroad,  save  the  blue-coated  policeman,  who, 
as  we  passed  him,  looked  at  us  with  a  suspicious  glance,  as 
if  he  thought  it  very  strange  that  we  should  be  in  the  streets 
at  that  hour  of  the  night. 

From  one  street  we  passed  into  another,  until  we  came  into 
the  ever-busy  Bishopsgate-street,  and  that  too  was  silent  as 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  161 

the  rest.  We  walked  down  this  into  Grace  Church  street, 
then  turned  to  the  left  down  a  street  near  the  river  Thames, 
M'hich  brought  us  to  the  great  Fire  Monument.  Then  we 
began  to  see  the  crowds  of  fishermen  with  their  baskets  and 
carls.  At  last  we  were  in  Billingsgate-market  ;  and  we 
never  witnessed  a  more  singular  sight  in  our  life.  The  large 
market  lies  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames,  and  slopes  from  the 
street  down  to  the  water. 

This  place  was  covered  with  the  v/holesale  dealers  at  their 
stalls,  and  all  the  alleys  were  crowded  with  buyers.  Gas- 
lights were  burning  brilliantly  at  every  stall,  and  the  business 
of  buying  and  selling  was  going  on  with  a  great  deal  of  noise. 
The  street  for  a  long  distance  each  side  of  the  market  was 
full  of  carts  and  horses  ;  there  were  hundreds  of  men  in  the 
market  all  talking  and  running  "  hither  and  yon,"  so  that  wo 
could  not  hear  ourselves  speak  for  the  din.  The  river  was 
full  of  fishing-smacks,  which  were  constantly  passing  up  their 
treasures  as  fast  as  the  retail-venders  bought  off  the  supply 
already  in  the  stalls.  Old  women  were  scattered  about  with 
ancient  copies  of  "  The  Times,'"  or  "  Chronicle''  to  sell  you 
cheap,  provided  you  wished  to  buy  some  "  shrimps,"  or  a 
"sole,"  and  had  no  basket  to  carry  them  home  in.  It  was  a 
scene  of  life  and  bustle,  and  yet  it  was  dark  out  in  the  streets, 
and  all  London  was  asleep  I 

Billingsgate  is  named  after  Belin,  a  king  of  the  Britons, 
who  built  a  gate  on  this  spot  400  years  before  the  birth  of 
Christ.  From  Belin's  Gate  came  the  present  Billingsgate. 
There  are  several  good-looking  churches  in  its  vicinity,  and 
also  several  fine  mercantile  houses. 

The  fish  are  brought  to  the  market  in  various  ways.  Sal- 
mon are  brought  from  Scotland,  in  warm  weather,  packed  in 
ice.  It  takes  only  twenty-four  hours  to  bring  them.  Fish- 
ing-smacks arrive  at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  from  the 
different  fishing-grounds  of  the  kingdom.  Some  of  the  night- 
II 


162  "WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

railway  trains  bring  loads  of  fish  fron.  Margate,  Hastings, 
&c.  &c.  Great  quantities  of  shrinfips  are  brought  from  Mar 
gate. 

Each  stall  in  the  market  dispensed  a  peculiar  kind  offish  ; 
one,  shrimps  ;  another,  turbots  ;  another,  mackerel ;  another, 
salmon,  and  so  on. 

Some  of  the  wholesale  fishermen  are  very  wealthy.  The 
Society  of  Fishmongers  is  one  of  the  most  powerful  in  Lon- 
don. 

It  h  thought  to  be^uite  an  honor  to  be  elected  an  honorary 
member  of  it.  Their  Hall  is  one  of  the  finest  buildings  in  the 
city,  and  stands  at  the  right  of  London  Bridge,  on  the  north- 
ern bank  of  the  Thames.  Fishmongers  have  risen  to  occupy 
the  highest  office  within  the  gift  of  the  city — more  than  one 
of  them  has  risen  to  be  Lord  Mayor. 

Fish  are  dear  in  London,  and  as  yet  comparatively  few  of 
the  people  eat  them.  The  prices  are  not  like  those  of  the 
different  meats,  stationary ;  but  rise  and  fall  every  day 
Therefore  the  latter  are  preferred. 

The  scene  at  Billingsgate  well  repaid  us  for  our  trouble  in 
visiting  it.  The  walk  on  such  a  frosty  morning  gave  a 
healthy  hue  to  our  cheeks,  and  also  to  our  spirits.  To  emerge 
suddenly  from  the  deathdike  streets  into  such  a  scene  of  noise 
and  confusion  and  brilliant  gas-light,  had  som.ething  of  the 
magical  in  it. 

We  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  centre  of  London 
Bridge,  The  day  had  dawned,  and  the  east  was  full  of  crim- 
son streaks.  London  lay  before  us — and  asleep  I  Looking 
eastward,  we  saw  a  dense  forest  of  shipping  from  tite  four 
quarters  of  the  globe  ;  tiiere  rose  the  vast  Custom  House  with 
its  Avails  tinted  over  with  London  smoke  :  still  further  down 
the  stream  rose  the  turrets  of  the  Tov/er  into  the  clear,  cold 
sky.  To  the  northwest,  looking,  we  saw  great  St.  Paul's 
dome,  a  beacon  for  the  lost  in  the  great  wilderness  of  London, 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  163 

There  was  the  tall  column  in  memory  of  the  great  London 
fire,  when  for  whole  days  the  flames  raged  and  the  sky  was 
black  as  night  with  smoke.  It  was  a  splendid  sight  ;  and 
then  we  thought  how  it  must  look  on  a  summer's  morning, 
when  the  sun  rises  long  before  the  people  wake.  Then 
Wordsworth's  splendid  lines,  written  or  conceived  upon  one 
of  these  London  bridges,  over  the  river  Thames,  came  to  oui 
iips  : — 

"  Earth  has  not  anything  to  show  more  fair  ; 
Bull  would  he  be  of  soul  who  could  pass  by 
A  sight  so  touching  in  its  majesty : 
This  city  now  doth  like  a  garment  wear 
The  beauty  of  the  morning :  silent,  bare, 
Ships,  towers,  domes,  theatres,  and  temples  lie 
Open  unto  the  fields  and  to  the  sky, 
All  bright  and  glittering  in  the  smokeless  air. 
2?'ever  did  sun  more  beautifully  steep 
In  his  first  splendor  valley,  rock  or  hill ; 
Ne'er  saw  I,  never  felt  a  calm  so  deep  ! 
The  river  glideth  at  its  own  sweet  will ; 
Dear  God  !  the  very  houses  seem  asleep, 
And  all  that  mighty  heart  is  lying  still  1" 


THAMES  TUNNEL. 

With  a  friend,  one  day  the  last  summer,  v/e  visited  the 
Thames  Tunnel,  and  though  it  was  not  our  first  visit,  by 
any  means,  yet  we  were  awed  by  the  grandeur  of  the  mar* 
vellous  structure. 

From  the  Bank  we  turned  east  into  Bishopsgate,  then  into 
a  Jew  street  called  Houndsditch,  and  soon  entered  White- 
chapel.  Here,  at  a  junction  of  streets,  we  saw  the  famous 
establishment  of  "  E.  Moses  and  Son,"  the  great  clothing-deal- 
ers of  London.  The  building  is  costly  and  showy,  but  is,  like 
all  sucb  gaudy  shops,  wanting  in  taste.     We  soon  came  in 


164  WHAT    r    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

sight  of  the  Towner,  with  its  turrets  gilded  by  the  morning's 
sun,  and  passed  down  towards  Wapping,  one  of  the  dirtiest 
places  m  London.  It  is  full  of  low  houses,  ignorant  people, 
obnoxious  scents.  The  inhabitants  are  many  of  them  coal- 
heavers,  and  are  wretchedly  poor.  But  soon  we  saw  a  hum- 
Lie  guide-board  with  "  To  the  Tunnel"  inscribed  upon  it,  and 
turning  to  the  right,  saw  before  us  the  little  circular  tower  of 
stone  which  guards  the  shaft  from  the  occasional  overflow  of 
the  water  in  the  Thames. 

As  we  entered  the  door,  each  slipped  the  toll — one  penny 
— upon  a  counter,  and  passed  through  a  gate  which  would 
only  admit  one  person  at  a  time,  and  which,  at  the  close  of 
the  day,  indicates  the  number  of  persons  that  have  passed 
through  it,  thus  giving  the  servants  in  attendance  no  oppor- 
tunity to  cheat,  were  they  so  disposed.  When  we  had  passed 
this  clicking  gate,  we  entered  the  circular  room  which  is  at 
the  top  of  the  shaft  of  the  Tunnel,  on  the  Wapping  side  of 
the  Thames.  Leaning  over  the  rail,  we  looked  far,  far  be- 
low upon  the  floor  of  the  Tunnel,  and  saw  spectators  looking 
away  across  to  the  E.otherhithe  side  of  the  river.  In  the  little 
room,  upon  its  walls,  there  are  a  few  daubs  of  paintings,  of 
Naples,  and  other  beautiful  places  in  the  world.  Gladly 
leaving  these,  we  commenced  our  descent  by  the  spiral  stair- 
case. At  last  we  were  upon  the  bottom.  Gas-lights  were 
burning  brightly,  for  it  is  always  night  in  this  subterranean 
region.  AVe  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  see  to  the  oppo- 
site end  of  the  tunnel,  either  from  a  curvature,  or  because  of 
the  distance,  which  is  1200  feet.  The  noise  of  music  was  in 
our  ears,  and  in  the  many  arches  of  the  Tunnel,  it  sounded 
prettily.  The  Tunnel  has  two  divisions,  or  half-arches — l 
through  one  it  was  intended  that  carriages  should  pass,  and 
through  the  other,  foot-passengers.  Between  the  two  depart- 
ments, there  are  innumerable  little  cross-arches,  which  were 
'it  up,  and  occupied  by  old  women  and  young  women,  with 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  165 

nil  kinds  of  gewgaws,  and  fine  baubles,  for  sale.  There  was 
nrte-paper  with  pictures  of  the  Tunnel  upon  it,  all  manner 
of  views,  and  trinkets,  and  edibles,  which  were  pressed  upon 
uy  with  that  zeal  which  European  shopmen  know  so  well  how 
(>  exercise. 

In  the  centre  there  was  a  "  Steam  Cosmorama,"  turning 
ut  views  "beautiful  and  unique,"  for  "  only  one  penny!" 
It  was  patronized  too,  once,  by  Her  Majesty  the  Q^ueen,  which 
of  course  wreathed  the  brow  of  the  proprietor  in  unfading 
laurels  I  Once  upon  a  time,  the  Glueen,  attended  only  by 
(ine  or  two  ladies,  came  here  in  great  haste,  and  as  soon  as 
s'he  had  entered,  no  one  was  allowed  to  pass  in  until  she  had 
ct/me  out.  The  keepers  of  the  stalls,  the  old  and  young 
v;omen,  were  overwhelmed  with  the  visit,  so  unexpected,  so 
glorious,  and  with  an  impulse  of  truest  loyalty,  made  a  path 
for  the  blooming  Q,ueen  with  their  handkerchiefs  and  their 
shawls  !  Then  to  think  what  a  sight  the  few  who  were  in 
the  Tunnel  had  of  Her  Majesty  !  And  the  dueen  out  of  curi- 
osity entered  the  little  "  Steam  Cosmorama,"  for  one  penny, 
and  ever  since,  the  word  "  Royal"  has  been  prefixed  to  it  ! 

Standing  in  the  middle  of  the  Tunnel,  we  could  see  each 
entrance  with  distinctness.  There  was  a  little  coffee-room 
close  by  us,  and  with  our  companion  we  took  a  seat  and  called 
for  a  cup  of  the.  beverage  and  a  couple  of  "  hot  cross-buns," 
merely  to  gratify  a  fancy,  for  we  were  not  hungry. 

There  were  many  gentlemen  and  ladies  present  while  we 
were  in  the  Tunnel,  mere  visitors,  and  occasionally  some  per- 
son on  business  crossed  from  one  side  to  the  other.  However, 
as  a  thoroughfare  and  speculation,  it  is  a  great  failure,  paying 
scarcely  interest  upon  the  capital  emphatically  sunk  in  the 
construction  of  the  Tunnel.  The  carriage-way  has  never 
been  completed  at  the  entrances,  as  it  is  sure  not  to  pay  for 
the  immense  outlay  of  money  necessary  to  construct  a  gradual 
approach  to  the  level  of  the  Tunnel. 


166  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

We  passe(f  along  to  the  Rotberhithe  entrance,  where  a 
woman  wished  to  take  our  likenesses  for  only  a  shilling,  and 
an  Italian  music-grinder  gave  us  his  coarse-ground  melodies 
for  what  we  pleased  to  give  in  return.  Then  we  saun- 
tered slowly  back  towards  the  Wapping  side,  thinking  as  we 
walked  of  the  daring  spirit  of  the  man  who  first  proposed  to 
construct  this  mighty  Tunnel,  and  who  accomplished,  after 
years^of  difficulty,  what  he  undertook.  Isamburt  Brunei  was 
that  man — afterwards  Sir  I.  Brunei,  as  a  reward  for  his  ge- 
nius, his  courage  and  perseverance,  and  final  success. 

In  1824,  by  express  act  of  Parliament,  after  the  continued 
suit  of  Mr.  Brunei,  a  company  was  Ibrmed  to  construct  the 
Tunnel,  and  in  March,  1825,  the  workmen  commence  J  sink- 
ing the  shaft.-  Day  after  day  it  descended,  until  at  last  it 
rested  upon  the  proper  level,  and  the  main  work  commenced. 
The  excavation  Avas  to  be  about  38  feet  broad  and  22  high, 
but  it  never  could  have  been  done  but  for  the  invention  of  a 
shield  by  Mr.  Brunei,  in  which  the  workmen  could  pursue 
their  work  with  comparative  safety.  The  first  few  feet  of 
excavation  was  through  a  firm  clay,  and  then  came  a  loose 
and  watery  sand,  and  for  thirty-two  days  did  the  workmen 
dig  ahead  in  this  soil,  expecting  death  every  day,  until  hard 
ground  was  again  reached. 

On  the  14th  of  March,  1826,  bursts  of  water  came  through 
upon  the  workmen,  but  the  precautions  taken  were  so  good 
that  the  shield  was  closed  against  it,  and  no  one  was  harmed. 
Two  weeks  after,  a  similar  occurrence  took  place.  The  1st 
of  January,  1827,  350  feet  of  the  Tunnel  were  completed, 
but  as  depressions  in  the  bottom  of  the  river  were  discovered 
bags  of  clay  were  thrown  in  to  fill  it  up  to  the  usual  level. 

In  May,  a  great  irruption  took  place  while  all  the  workmen 
were  at  their  posts.  The  water  came  pouring  in,  in  volumes 
upon  them,  and  they  ran  for  their  lives.     Some  were  knocked 


RE.>IARKABLE    PLACES.  167 

down,  while  others  were  choking  with  water.  3ne  of  the 
assistant  engineers  says  : 

"  The  wave  rolled  onward  and  onward.  The  men  re- 
treated and  I  followed.  Then  I  met  Isamburt  Brunei.  We 
turned  round :  the  effect  was  splend  d  beyond  description. 
The  water  as  it  rose  became  more  and  more  vivid — as  we 
reached  the  staircase,  a  crash  was  heard,  and  then  a  rush  of 

air  extinguished   all  the  lights I  looked  up  and 

saw  the  staircase  crowded — below,  and  beheld  the  over- 
whelming wave.  Dreading  the  reaction  of  this  wave  upon 
our  staircase,  I  exclaimed,  '  The  staircase  will  blov/  up  I'  Mr. 
Brunei  ordered  the  men  to  get  up  with  all  expedition,  and  our 
feet  were  scarcely  off  the  bottom  stairs,  when  the  first  flight, 

which  we  liad  just  left,   was  swept   away The 

roll  was  immediately  called — 7iot  one  absent  !'' 

It  took  a  long  time  to  fill  up  this  chasm  with  clay,  and  go 
to  work  again  at  the  Tunnel,  but  the  genius  of  Brunei  would 
not  rest.  It  is  said  that  the  workmen  became  accustomed  to 
expect  death  at  any  instant,  and  that  one  night  at  dead  mid- 
night, wliile  a  son  of  Mr.  Brunei  was  overseeing  the  work- 
men, he  heard  a  cry  of  "  The  water  I  The  water  !"  p^nd  hur- 
rying to  the  place  of  danger,  found  the  poor  exhausted  labor- 
ers fast  asleep  in  the  "  shield" — one  of  them  had  cried  out  in 
his  dreams ! 

In  1828,  another  irruption  took  place,  and  this  one  was 
fatal  to  many  lives.  A  son  of  Mr.  Brunei  was  at  the  time  in 
the  Tunnel,  and  was  knocked  down.  He  struggled  under 
the  water  for  awhile,  his  knee  was  badly  injured,  and  he  set 
ut  to  swim  to  the  entrance,  when  a  mighty  wave  came 
gweeping  along,  which  swept  him  on,  and  on,  and  finally  up 
to  the  top  of  the  shaft,  where  he  was  saved.  But  many  of 
the  poor  workmen  were  killed  or  drowned.  This  calamity 
occurred  at  an  unfortunate  crisis.  The  funds  of  the  company 
were  low,  and  they  ceased  operations.     Mr.  Brunei  was  in  a 


168  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON.  - 

state  bordering  on  madness,  but  for  seven  yeais  his  favorite 
work  was  untouched.  Yet  it  is  said  that  every  day  of  that 
seven  long  years,  he  came  and  viewed  with  a  iiielancholy 
brow  the  half-wrought  Tunnel,  and  would  not  give  up  his 
hopes.  See  what  "  Nil  desperandii^n'''  accomplishes  I  In 
1f^35,  after  a  respite  of  seven  years,  the  arches  of  the  Tunnel 
were  unclosed,  and  laborers  went  to  work  at  it  under  the  old 
master-genius,  Isamburt  Brunei.  Five  difierent  irruptions 
took  place,  but  the  work  went  steadily  onward  until  on  the 
morning  of  the  loth  of  August,  1841,  Mr.  Brunei — now  Sir 
I.  Brunei — passed  under  the  Thames,  completely  to  the  other 
side.  His  great  thought  was  at  last  turned  into  reality — he 
had  made  a  pathway  for  millions  under  a  river  which  carries 
upon  its  bosom  the  fleets  of  all  nations  of  the  world  ! 

The  whole  cost  was  in  the  region  of  $3,000,000,  but  as  we 
have  remarked,  it  does  not  pay  as  a  pecuniary  scheme.  Still, 
it  stands  before  the  world  as  the  mightiest  work  of  its  kind  in 
all  the  world — and  it  is  well  worth  three  millions  I  Perhaps 
there  was  never  a  brighter  instance  of  Genius  struggling  under 
the  most  disheartening  difficulties,  and  finally,  through  every 
obstacle,  achieving  not  only  a  glorious  success,  but  an  appre- 
ciation of  it  from  the  highest  quarters.  Well  did  Isamburt 
Brunei  deserve  the  honors  he  received — without  them  his 
name  would  be  immortal. 

It  is  a  strange  feeling  which  comes  over  one  as  he  stands 
i'l  the  centre  of  the  Tunnel,  and  knows  that  a  mighty  river 
is  rolling  on  over  his  head,  and  that  great  ships  with  their 
thousands  of  tons  burthen,  sail  over  him.  We  well  remember 
our  first  visit  to  the  Tunnel,  and  how  our  companion,  an  English 
lady  of  lively  temperament,  said  as  we  stood  in  the  centre  : 

"  Ah  I  what  if  now  these  arches  were  to  give  way,  or  the 
river  were  to  gursh  in  upon  us,  what  would  become  of  us  ?" 

The  bare  idea  of  such  a  thing  was  enough  to  strike  one 
with  horror. 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  169 

"  But."  added  she,  "  /  am  your  cicerone  to-day,  so  we  will 
sit  down,  and  while  tasting  some  marmalade,  compute  the 
possibility  of  the  thing  I" 

Preposterous  as  it  may  seem,  there  are  people  in  London 
who  durst  not  venture  into  the  Tunnel ! 

There  is  no  single  work  of  Art  in  London  (with  the  excep- 
tion of  St.  Paul's  Cathedral)  which  excites  so  much  curiosity 
and  admiration  among  foreigners  as  the  Tunnel.  Great 
buildings  are  common  to  all  parts  of  Europe,  but  the  world 
has  not  such  another  Tunnel  as  this.  There  is  something 
grand  in  the  idea  of  walking  under  a  broad  river — making  a 
pathway  dry  and  secure  beneath  ships  and  navies  ! 

THE  OLD  BAILEY. 

With  a  friend  we  went  over  the  Old  Bailey,  from  top  to 
bottom — over  court  and  over  prison,  and  as  it  is  one  of  the 
most  celebrated  prisons  in  Europe,  we  saw  much  which  was 
striking  and  full  of  interest. 

We  saw  the  spot  on  which  the  celebrated  Jack  Sheppard 
was  executed,  where  that  cunning  deceiver,  Jonathan  Wild, 
met  a  similar  fate ;  and  witnessed  the  Old  Bailey  Court,  in 
session. 

There  is  no  object  in  London  which  has  such  a  dismal  as- 
pect as  this  prison.  Its  massive  walls,  so  grim  and  dark, 
strike  the  beholder  with  an  awe  which  chills  him  to  the 
heart.  Yet  of  all  the  countless  throng  which  passes  it  each 
day,  how  few  ever  think  of  the  wretched  culprits  who  are 
dungeoned  away  from  liberty  within  those  dreary  walls.  It 
is  only  the  atiranger,  unused,  whose  heart  throbs  quickly  at  the 
mght. 

The  Prison  is  but  a  little  way  from  the  General  Post  Office, 
or  Saint  Paul's,  and  lies  between  Fleet-street  and  Holborn, 
on  a  cross  street  which  is  named  "  Old  Bailey."     The  mora- 

H 


170  WHA'I    I    SAW    IN    LONDOK. 

ing  on  which  we  visited  it,  the  Court  in  a  part  of  the  build 
ing  was  in  session,  or  in  fact  the  Lord  Mayor  was  opening  it. 
The  room  was  a  small  one,  considerably  smaller  than  the 
court-rooms  of  America,  and  ranged  upon  the  Bench  were 
the  Lord  Mayor,  the  Recorder,  the  Sheriffs,  and  a  i'aw  Alder- 
men. They  were  all  in  their  wigs  and  robes,  and  the  Mayor, 
Recorder  and  High  Sheriff  wore  the  insignia  of  office  upon 
their  breasts.  A  jury  was  being  impanelled  while  we  were 
present,  so  that  we  saw  no  trial,  nor  exhibition  of  legal  skill. 
In  this  little  room  all  sorts  of  crimes  are  tried,  from  petty  lar- 
ceny up  to  treason.  Tlje  Lord  Chancellor,  Lord  Mayor,  Re- 
corder, Common  Serjeant  and  Aldermen  are  the  judges,  but 
pretty  much  all  the  cases  are  tried  before  the  Recorder  and 
the  Common  Serjeant.  There  was  no  more  decorum  in  the 
court-room  than  in  similar  places  in  this  country. 

The  Court,  as  we  have  remarked,  wore  wigs  and  solemn 
gowns,  and  also  all  the  lawyers.  It  is  claimed  that  this  gives 
to  the  court-room  a  solemnity  which  it  needs,  but  we  must 
confess  that  the  sight  of  a  couple  of  lawyers  in  full  costume, 
and  at  their  profession  of  wrangling,  always  excites  oui 
laughing,  rather  than  reverential  faculties. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  Prisoner's  Dock,  but  We  could  not 
help  remembering  some  of  the  celebrated  persons  who  have 
stood  there  Fauntleroy,  the  celebrated  (Quaker  forger,  took 
his  trial  there,  and  was  hung  in  front  of  the  prison.  Eliza 
Fenning  had  her  trial  therein  1815,  and  circumstances  have 
since  transpired  wViich  render  it  almost  certain,  that  she  was 
innocent  of  the  crime  for  which  she  was  hung.  She  was  a 
slight,  beautiful  creature,  and  it  is  said,  grew  so  emaciated 
after  her  sentence,  that  when  she  was  suspended  upon  the 
gallows  there  was  not  weight  enough  in  her  body  to  produce 
strangulation,  and  Jack  Ketch  was  obliged  to  apply  additionai 
weight  to  produce  death. 

The  poet  Savage  had  his  trial  there  in  1727,  and  Jonathan 


KENiARKABLE    PLACES.  l7l 

Wild  in  1725.  Jack  Sheppard  swung  before  the  gates  of  the 
Old  Bailey  a  year  previous.  Dr.  Dodd  had  his  trial  also  in 
the  same  place. 

There  is,  to  us,  son:iethiiig  exceedingly  painful  in  the  sight 
of  a  prisoner  taking  his  trial.  The  suspense  of  an  innocen 
man  must  be  full  of  agony,  and  the  alternate  hope  and  fear  of 
the  guilty  one  cannot  but  be  terrible.  The  countenances  of 
such  men  are  painful,  whether  guilty  or  innocent,  and  the  in- 
nocent .man  is  much  more  likely  to  be  confused  than  the  har- 
dened criminal, 

A  friend  introduced  us  to  the  Governor  of  the  Prison,  Mr. 
Hope,  who  received  us  in  a  very  gentlemanly  manner,  and 
learning  that  we  wished  to  go  over  the  Prison,  summoned  the 
chief  turnkey,  who  at  once  took  us  to  the  kitchen  for  the  male 
department.  There  were  large  fires  and  boilers,  and  every- 
thing was  looking  clean  and  neat.  The  prisoners  are  fed  with 
meat  four  times  a  week,  and  soup  three,  besides  a  regular  al- 
lowance of  bread  and  potatoes. 

We  soon  came  to  where,  in  an  open  court,  surrounded  by 
iron  pickets,  but  open  above  to  the  sky  and  air,  some  prison- 
ers were  taking  exercise.  They  were  all  waiting  for  trial, 
and  among  them  were  some  pleasant  faces,  but  upon  the 
majority  crime  was  written  in  plain  characters.  We  passed 
through  several  such  yards,  in  all  of  which  a  party  of  pris- 
oners were  taking  exercise,  by  walking  round  and  round, 
close  by  the  iron  pickets.  One  party  exercises  thus  for  an 
hour,  when  they  return  to  their  cells  to  give  room  to  anothei 
party. 

We  entered  the  cells,  and  found  them  neat,  wholesome, 
and  clean.  We  now  came  to  that  part  of  the  prison  where 
the  convicts  are  confined,  and  were  shocked  with  the  expres- 
sion of  every  countenance.  There  was  generally  an  expres- 
sion of  low  cunning  upon  the  faces  of  the  prisoners  ;  their  eyes 
were  keen,  but  their  foreheads  low. 


172  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOK. 

We  saw  in  one  cell  a  dariuir  burglar  who  had,  a  short 
time  previous,  broken  into  the  house  of  an  American  near 
Regent's  Park.  In  one  yard  the  turnkey  pointed  up  at  a 
corner,  and  said  that  a  sweep  who  was  a  prisoner,  had  con- 
t  ived  to  run  up  forty  feet  of  the  bare  wall,  and  climb  over  d 
i  ace  of  iron  spikes.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  how  it  was 
done,  and  now,  the  corner  where  two  walls  meet,  is  guarded 
by  a  row  of  iron  teeth  which  project  from  the  wall,  a  short 
distance  from  the  summit,  to  prevent  any  similar  attempts. 

We  entered  one  room  where  writing  materials  were  pro- 
vided for  the  prisoners  awaiting  trial.  A  dozen  persons  were 
seated  upon  the  wooden  benches,  and  were  leaning  forward 
upon  a  table,  writing  letters  to  friends.  We  caught  the 
heading  of  one  of  the  letters,  and  it  ran  "Dear  Mother."  We 
were  struck  with  the  sentence,  and  thought  how  much  of 
wretchedness  in  this  world  the  innocent  must  suffer  with  the 
guilty.  Almost  all  of  these  persons  had  hopes  of  an  acquittal, 
through  the  abilities  of  some  able  lawyer,  or  the  positive  mer- 
its of  the  case.  There  are  several  noted  criminal  lawyers  who 
practise  at  the  Courts  of  the  Old  Bailey,  some  of  them  making 
twenty- five  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

We  were  now  shown  the  Condemned  Cell — the  place 
\vhere  persons  are  kept  after  a  sentence  of  death  has  been 
passed  upon  them.  It  was  a  gloomy  little  spot,  with  hardly 
any  light  creeping  into  it.  We  could  not  help  thinking  of  the 
weary  nights  which  many  a  poor  wretch  has  spent  in  that 
lolernn  cell — of  that  last  night,  with  all  its  bitter  woe  and 
agony.  There  was  no  occupant  then — it  was  as  silent  as  a 
tomb,  and  while  we  rested  in  it  for  a  few  moments  it  seemed 
to  us  as  if  we  could  see  and  feel  something  of  the  scenes 
which  it  had  witnessed.  If  those  walls  could  only  speak, 
what  tales  of  misery  they  would  tell.  If  the  evil-inclined 
could  only  see  the  bitterness  of  spirit  which  those  old,  grim 
walls   have  witnessed,  they  would  "  go,  and   sin  no  more." 


kemakkable  places.  173 

If  they  could  see  the  tears  of  repentance  upon  the  pale  cheeks 
of  the  condtmnecl — too  late  for  pardon  in  this  world-  ^there 
would  be  no  more  pleasure  in  crime. 

Mrs.  Manning  was  the  last  occupant  of  the  cell,  and  we 
remembered  her  case  well.  Husband  and  wife  were  both 
engaged  in  the  murder  of  a  friend,  to  get  a  large  amount  of 
money,  in  his  possession. 

The  chapel  of  the  Old  Bailey  is  a  neat  place,  though  rather 
small  for  the  accommodation  of  all  the  prisoners.  There  are 
two  or  three  boxes  in  it  for  the  Governor  and  the  Sherifis, 
and  some  open  benches  for  young  offenders,  but  the  older  ones 
were  separated  from  the  rest  by  an  iron  fence.  There  is  a 
seat  which  is  always  occupied  by  persons  condemned  to  exe- 
cution. Upon  the  last  Sunday  a  sermon  is  preached  for  the 
especial  benefit  of  the  condemned,  and  here  he  sits  with  all 
the  rest  gazing  at  him.  Years  ago  his  coffin  used  to  be  placed 
right  before  his  eyes,  and  stra»^gers  could  gain  an  entrance  to 
look  at  him  during  the  sermor,by  paying  the  turnkey  a  few 
shillings,  but  such  barbarities  aj€  not  now  allowed. 

We  now  passed  into  the  femtL-i  department  of  the  prison — 
the  first  room  we  entered  com.iined  two  quite  handsome 
young  women,  and  as  a  rule  there  was  a  great  different^e 
between  the  appearance  of  the  rD.ile  and  female  prisoners. 
The  latter  were  ashamed,  and  cc5.\d  not  conceal  it.  One 
face  was  really  a  beautiful  one,  and  tuimsoned  with  blushes, 
but  some  of  them  seemed  wholly  Icr^  to  goodness,  and  such 
were  indescribably  more  horrible  than  ait.y  of  the  men's  faces. 
Why  is  it  that  an  utterly  depraved  ?*'on^an  looks  so  much 
worse  than  a  depraved  man  ?  It  certainly  in  so,  and  perhaps 
the  reason  is,  that  we  all  expect  to  see  virtue  and  beauty  in 
women,  but  we  are  not  so  confident  of  mei?  and  when  we 
are  disappointed,  the  look  of  Vice  upon  tht  ^•'>n^'tn's  face 
looks  more  hideous  than  on  a  man's. 

In  one  ward  we  saw  a  woman  with  as  sweet  u  b'.-HJng 


174 


WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


babe  as  ever  we  saw  out  of  it.  It  was  a  touching  sight — 
such  pure  Innocence  in  the  arms  of  Guilt.  And  when  we 
thought  of  the  cruel  scorn  of  the  world,  we  wished,  almost, 
that  the  babe  might  die,  instead  of  living  to  herd  with  wicked 
men,  or  if  among  good,  to  be  taunted  with  its  birth.  Born  in 
Newgate  I  let  the  child  be  gentle  as  the  gentlest,  pure  as 
the  purest  and  beautiful  as  a  poet's  ideal,  and  that  stigma 
would  forever  banish  it  from  society  ! 

There  was  a  young  girl  in  the  same  ward  only  eight  years 
old,  who  looked  as  if  she  was  frightened  at  our  approach. 
We  M^ondered  how  one  so  young  could  get  to  such  a  place. 
Her  face  was  very  pale,  and  she  was  reading  a  little  Testa- 
ment when  we  entered  the  room  :  she  curtsied  to  us  grace- 
fully, and  as  we  looked  at  her,  we  thought  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  at  home  with  those 
around  her.  Close  to  her  side  there  was  one  of  the  ugliest- 
looking  hags  we  ever  have  seen,  with  reddish  eyes,  and  a  low 
forehead.  Newgate  has  its  contrasts  as  well  as  the  world 
outside  its  walls. 

It  was  in  this  prison  that  Jack  Sheppard  v/as  imprisoned, 
and  from  which  he  made  that  daring  escape  which  handed 
his  name  down  to  us  in  rhyme  and  romance.  We  are  clearly 
of  the  opinion  that  such  books  as  Ainsworth's  "  Jack  Sheppard" 
should  not  be  tolerated  in  society,  or  rather  that  men  of  con- 
science should  not  write  such  books,  for  they  make  heroism 
out  of  crime.  Yet  the  darmg  courage  of  Jack  is  unquestion- 
able, and  some  of  his  adventures  were  most  wonderful... 

In  a  book  entitled  "  Annals  of  Newgate,"  by  Hev.  Mr. 
Vilette,  who  was  once  a  chaplain  of  Newgate,  or  the  Old 
Bailey,  he  says  as  he  was  returning  one  evening  from  the 
west  part  of  the  town,  and  had  lost  his  way,  he  stopped  before 
K.  pnieh  to  listen  to  the  voice  of  a  preacher,  when  he  heard 
h     following  words  : 

Now  my  beloved,  what  a  melancholy  consideration  it  is, 


KEMARKABLE    PLACES.  175 

that  men  should  show  so  much  regard  for  the  preserva- 
tion of  a  poor  perishing  body,  that  can  remain  at  most  for 
a  few  years,  and  at  the  same  time  be  sc  unaccountably  negli- 
gent of  a  precious  soul  which  must  continue  to  the  ages  of 
eternity  !  We  have  a  remarkable  instance  of  this  in  a  notori- 
ous malefactor,  well-known  by  the  name  of  Jack  Sheppard. 
What  amazing  difficulties  has  he  overcome,  what  astonishing 
things  has  he  performed  for  the  sake  of  a  miserable  carcase 
hardly  worth  having!  How  dexterously  did  he  pick  the 
padlock  of  his  chain  with  a  crooked  nail !  How  manfully 
burst  his  fetters  asunder,  climb  up  the  chinmey,  wrench  out 
an  iron  bar,  break  his  way  through  a  stone  wall,  and  make 
the  strong  door  of  a  dark  entry  fly  before  him,  till  he  got 
upon  the  leads  of  the  prison  ;  and  then  fixing  a  blanket  to 
the  wall,  with  a  spike,  he  stole  out  of  the  chapel  ;  hoAV  in- 
trepidly did  he  descend  to  the  top  of  the  turner's  house,  and 
how  cautiously  run  down  the  stairs,  and  make  his  escape  at 
the  street  door  !  O  that  ye  all  zvere  like  Jack  Sheiyjiard  ! 
Mistake  me  not,  my  brethren  :  I  do  not  mean  in  a  carnal 
sense,  for  I  propose  to  spiritualize  these  things.  Let  me 
exhort  you  then  to  open  the  locks  ,of  your  hearts  with  the 
nail  of  repentance  ;  burst  asunder  the  fetters  of  your  beloved 
lusts  ;  mount  the  chimney  of  hope  ;  take  from  thence  the 
bar  of  good  resolution  ;  break  through  the  stone  walls  of 
despair,  and  all  the  strongholds  in  the  dark  entry  of  the  valley 
of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  raise  yourselves  to  the  level  of 
divine  meditation  ;  fix  the  blanket  of  faith  with  the  spike  of 
the  church  ;  let  yourselves  down  to  the  turner's  house  of 
resignation,  and  descend  the  stairs  of  humanity  ;  so  shall  you 
come  to  the  door  of  deliverance  from  the  prison  of  inquity, 
and  escape  the  clutches  of  that  old  executioner,  the  devil, 
who  goeth  about  like  a  roaring  lion  seeking  whom  he  may 
devour !" 


176  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


SOMERSET  HOUSE. 


Any  stranger  who  has  walked  often  up  that  busiest  of 
London  thoroughfares,  the  Strand,  must  have  noticed  Somerset 
House.  Its  gates  of  iron  open  into  the  street  on  the  left  hand 
as  you  go  west,  about  three  fourths  of  the  way  up  from 
St.  Paul's  to  Charing  Cross  Passing  one  day  near  the  gates, 
we  entered  the  court  of  the  House — if  it  be  proper  to 
designate  so  magnificent  a  pile  of  buildings  by  that  name. 
The  buildings  are  in  a  quadrangular  form,  are  of  great  height, 
and  constructed  of  granite.  The  open  court  is  of  great  extent, 
and  what  is  a  little  singular,  the  buildings  not  only  extend 
far  above  the  lev^el  of  the  court,  but  also  far  below.  A  railing 
of  granite  runs  round  the  area,  and  leaning  over  this,  you 
look  far  below  to  a  second  level  which  is  the  basis  of  the 
structure,  though  very  much  below  the  level  of  the  streets. 
There  are  subterranean  passages  running  in  every  direction  ; 
some  opening  down  on  the  shore  of  the  river  Thames,  when 
the  tide  is  out,  and  when  it  is  in,  half  filled  with  the  tide. 
Here  we  found  immense  cellars  also,  for  storing  provisions  and 
wines,  and  vaults  in  which  the  echoes  of  our  voices  seemed 
hollow  and  unearthly. 

The  buildings  can  be  seen  best  from  the  court,  though  s 
good  view  of  them  can  be  obtained  from  the  river  while  of 
board  a  steamer. 

Upon  one  of  the  walls,  about  forty  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  court,  there  is  inserted  the  face  of  a  watch.  This  singu 
lar  circumstance  always  arrests  the  attention  of  the  stranger 
Tradition  says  that  when  Somerset  House  was  being  built, 
one  of  the  workmen,  or  architect  from  the  Continent,  while 
upon  a  staging,  lost  his  foothold  and  would  have  fallen  to  the 
ground  below  had  not  his  strong  watch  chain  caught  in  some 
part  of  the  staging,  which  arrested  his  descent  for  a  moment, 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  ITt 

long  enough  for  a  kindly  hand  to  reach  forth  to  his  rescue. 
This  story  was  told  us  by  a  person  well  versed  in  antiquarian 
lore.  The  workman  to  commemorate  the  feat,  inserted  the 
face  of  the  watch  in  the  wail. 

The  magnificent  Somerset  House  was  once  the  residence 
and  property  of  one  man.  In  1536,  Henry  VHI.  married  the 
sister  of  Edward  Seymour,  who  was  at  once  made  a  peer. 
When  his  sister  gave  birth  to  a  prince,  he  was  made  Earl  of 
Hertford,  and  four  years  later  elected  Knight  of  the  Garter, 
and  appointed  Lord  Chamberlain  for  life.  The  King  died  at 
this  time,  intending  to  heap  new  honors  on  his  favorite,  and 
left  instructions  in  his  will  that  his  intentions  be  carried  into 
effect.  In  1546  he  was  elected  by  the  Privy  Council, 
Governor  of  the  young  king  Edward  VI.,  and  shortly  after  was 
made  the  Duke  of  Somerset.  He  then  owned  property  upon 
which  the  Somerset  House  was  built,  and  now  stands,  the 
whole  of  C event  Garden,  and  neighborhood.  He  soon  began 
to  construct  the  present  Somerset  House,  intending  it  to  be  a 
magnificent  family  mansion  for  himself  It  was  a  grander 
private  scheme  than  England  had  seen  executed,  and  as  at 
the  very  time  she  was  engaged  in  a  war,  and  a  terrible  plague 
raged  in  London,  the  people  were  discontented,  for  all  the 
while  the  Duke  of  Somerset  was  spending  enormous  sums  of 
money  upon  this  building,  and  importing-  Italian  architects. 
For  the  sake  of  personal  aggrandizement  he  brought  his 
brother  to  the  block,  and  in  many  ways  rendered  himself 
unpopular,  and  he  was  finally  committed  to  the  Tower,  '•  for 
seeking  his  own  glory  as  appeared  by  his  building  of  most 
sumptuous  and  costly  buildings,  and  specially  in  the  time  of 
the  King's  wars,  and  the  King's  soldiers  unpaid." 

He  appealed  privately  to  his  great  rival,  the  Earl  of  War- 
wick, and  was  released,  but  Avas  sliortly  after  again  confined, 
and  finally  beheaded.  His  own  nephew,  Edward  VI.,  in  his 
diary,  thus  coldly  notices  the  death  of  his  uncle  : — 


1*78  T^HAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

"  Jan.  22. — The  Buke  of  Somerset  had  his  head  cut  off 
between  eight  and  nine  this  moniing,  npon  Tower  Hill." 

Thus  perished  the  founder  of  Somerset  House.  Many  of 
the  peo^,  .e  loved  him,  and  a  few  moments  before  his  death  a 
rumor  among  the  multitude  said  that  his  nephew  the  King  had 
pardoned  him,  and  a  cry  arose  of  "  Pardon  I  pardon  I  God 
save  the  King  !"  But  it  was  a  mistake,  and  the  Duke  was 
beheaded  after  a  new  hope  of  life.  Although  the  Duke  con- 
structed Somerset  House,  he  never  inhabited  it.  After  his 
death  the  sister  of  the  King,  Princess  Elizabeth,  inhabited  the 
house,  and  after  she  came  to  the  throne  it  was  a  favorite  res- 
idence of  hers.  Anne  of  Denmark  afterwards  used  it,  and  in 
1625  the  body  of  James  I.  lay  in  state  there. 

In  1780  a  portion  of  the  house  was  devoted  to  the  exhibi- 
tion of  the  paintings  of  the  Hoyal  Academy.  The  Society  of 
Antiquaries  and  Royal  Astronomical  and  Geological  Societies 
also  now  have  apartments  in  it. 

The  Admiralty  has  large  offices  in  it.  The  Civil  List  and 
Audit  Office  are  also  there,  and  a  Board  of  Stamp  and  Taxes 
E,evenue.  In  the  southern  front  of  the  buildings  is  the  In- 
come Tax  Office. 

Perhaps  we  can  give  a  better  idea  of  the  business  done 
in  it,  by  stating  a  fact.  In  the  Taxes  department  (which 
only  includes  probate  and  legacy  duties,  land  taxes  and  the 
Income  tax),  700  clerks  are  employed,  and  the  yearly  revenue 
collected  by  these,  averages  more  than  60,000,000  of  dollars, 
or  nearly  one  quarter  of  the  v/hole  public  revenue. 

It  is  a  little  singular  that  a  building  constructed  by  a  pri- 
vate man  for  his  private  residence  should  nowbensed  as  it  is. 
It  is  a  pleasant  souvenir  of  the  past,  that  "  golden  age,"  in 
which  the  noble  was  al]-in=ail,  but  the  millions  of  people  little 
loetter  than  slavei. 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  179 


THE  FIRE  MONUMENT. 

riie  Fire  Monument  is  one  of  the  finest  in  the  world.  It 
3(  mniemorates  the  great  London  Fire,  which  occurred  in  the 
year  1666,  or  nearly  two  hundred  years  ago.  The  column 
stands  upon  the  spot  where  the  fire  is  supposed  to  have  origi- 
nated. It  stands  on  Fish-street  Hill,  on  the  city  side  of  Lon- 
don Bridge,  and  overlooks  the  whole  metropolis,  but  especially 
the  river  with  its  many  bridges,  the  gray  old  Tower,  St. 
Paul's,  the  Bank,  and  Royal  Exchange.  We  visited  the  top 
of  the  monument  one  pleasant  winter  morning.  A  sixpence, 
admittance-fee,  was  demanded  at  the  door,  and  we  commenced 
the  toilsome  ascent  through  a  worse  than  Egyptian  darkness. 
Three  hundred  and  forty-five  steps  brought  us  out  into  hght 
and  wholesome  air  on  the  summit.  Tlie  sight  was  almost 
overpowering.  The  morning,  thongh  a  winter  one,  was  sun- 
ny, and  the  atmosphere  of  that  peculiar  clearness  and  purity 
only  known  when  frost  is  in  the  sky  ;  and  scarcely  ever,  then, 
in  London.  Just  below  us,  on  the  right  hand,  the  Bloody 
Tower  lay,  with  its  cupolas  shining  in  the  morning's  sun — ■ 
and  still  farther  on,  the  docks  lay  with  their  harvest  of  ships 
and  steamers.  The  Thames  ran  gracefully  along  at  our  feet, 
with  its  bosom  freighted  with  steamers,  barges,  bridges,  and 
boats.  On  the  left  was  the  low  roofed  building  which  holds 
in  its  vaults  the  wealth  of  the  world — the  Bank  of  England  ; 
still  farther  on,  the  glorious  Saint  Paul's  Cathedral  ;  and  in 
the  south-west,  in  the  spot  where  the  sun  would  set,  West- 
minster Abbey  raised  to  the  sky  its  venerable  walls,  the  pleas- 
antest  sight  of  all,  the  sight  most  suggestive  of  dim  and  shad- 
owy thoughts. 

All  London  and  its  suburbs  lay  spread  out  before  us.  Gaz- 
ing down  upon  the  Strand,  Holborn,  Bishopsgate,  and  Cheap- 
side,  the  great  street-arteries  of  London,  Wordsworth's  lines 


180  WHAT    I    SAW    TN    LONDON. 

written  on  Westminster  Bridge  at  sunrise,  when  the  city- 
world  was  asleep,  came  to  our  mind,  and  the  thought  of  "  All 
that  ojiighty  heart'"  throbbing  impulsively  before  us,  was 
grander  than  to  see  it  '' lymg  still.''  Men  pouring  down 
Cheapside  in  one  incessant,  never-ending  stream,  earnestly 
moving  onward  ;  lawyers  pressing  after  debtors,  merchants 
ntent  on  great  bargains,  stockholders  on  good  dividends,  doc- 
tors on  a  large  practice,  the  trades  people  on  a  lively  market, 
and  the  crossing-sweepers  on  making  pathetic  bows,  such  as 
win  sixpences  instead  of  pennies — carts,  wagon*,  coaches,  cabs, 
omnibuses,  and  carriages,  all  pushing  on,  and  making  an  up- 
roar like  that  of  a  thunder-storm  !  We  know  of  nothing 
grander,  in  the  line  of  sounds,  than  the  noise  of  a  great  city, 
heard  away  from  it,  so  far  that  no  harshness  is  heard,  but  a 
low,  heavy  thunder.  It  is  to  the  ear  what  a  yellow,  dooms- 
day, London  fog  is  to  the  eye. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  we  could  waken  from  the  trance 
we  were  in — ^the  contemplation  of  the  world  at  our  feet ; 
looking  as  we  did  from  Greenwich  in  the  East  to  Westmin- 
ster in  the  West  ;  from  Stamford  Hill  in  the  North,  to  Clap- 
ham  in  the  South  ;  taking  in  such  myriads  of  churches  ;  so 
many  acres  of  houses  ;  so  many  forests  of  shipping ;  so 
many  hideous,  awful  streets,  so  many  beautiful,  wealthy 
streets  ;  so  many  wretched,  drunken,  starving  homes,  so 
many  happy  and  generous  homes  ;  so  many  pleasant  re- 
sorts for  the  wise  and  good,  so  many  dens  of  crime  and 
pollution  ,  and  so  many  hundreds  of  thousands,  even  mil- 
lions, of  human  beings.  Noiv  the  scene  before  us  was'  all 
excitement,  all  noise,  and  bustle,  and  confusion.  A  few  hours 
sweep  on — 

"  And  all  that  raighty  heart  is  lying  still !" 
The  great  world  which  now  lay  open  before  us  with  its 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  181 

gigantic  impulses,  its  miraculous  energies,  Lared  to  our  vision 
would  in  a  few  hours  be  helpless  as  an  infant. 

A  few  years  pass  away  and  then  they  all  sleep  the  Sleef 
of  Ages  I     Verily,  sic  transit  gloria  mundi  ! 

*'  Life  in  its  many  shapes  is  there, 
The  busy  and  the  gay ; 
Faces  that  seem  too  young  and  fair, 
To  ever  know  decay. 

*'  Wealth,  with  its  waste,  its  pomp  and  pride, 
Leads  forth  its  ghttering  train ; 
And  Poverty's  pale  face  beside, 
Asks  aid,  and  asks  in  vain. 

"  The  shops  are  filled  from  many  lands- 
Toys,  silks,  and  gems,  and  flowers  ; 
The  patient  work  of  many  hands, 
The  hope  of  many  hours. 

"Yet  mid  life's  myriad  shapes  around, 
There  is  a  sigh  of  death  !" 
*  *  *  *  »  »  t. 

The  Great  Fire,  of  which  this  Tower  is  commemorative, 
consumed  four  hundred  and  thirty-six  acres  of  buildings, 
over  thirteen  thousand  houses.  St.  Paul's,  ninety  churches, 
Guildhall,  the  Royal  Exchange,  Custom  House,  four  bridges, 
Newgate,  fifty-two  Companies'  Halls,  and  a  vast  number  of 
other  edifices.     The  amount  of  property  consumed  was  over 

$60,000,000 : 

Pepys,  in  his  Diary,  gives,  in  a  few  quaint  words,  the  fol- 
lowing vivid  description  of  the  fire  : — - 

"  Then  did  the  city  shake  indeed,  and  the  inhabitants  did 
tremble,  and  fled  away  in  great  amazement  from  their  houses, 
lest  the  flames  should  devour  them.  Rattle,  rattle,  rattle, 
was  the  noise  which  the  fire  struck  upon  the  ear  round  about, 
as  if  there  had  been  a  thousand  iron  chariots  beating  upon 


182  WHAT    I    SAW    I^    LONDON, 

the  stones;  and  if  you  opened  your  eye  to  the  opening  of  the 
streets  where  the  fire  wag  come,  yon  might  see  in  some  places 
whole  streets  at  once  in  flames,  that  issued  forth  as  if  they 
had  been  so  many  great  forges  from  the  opposite  windows, 
which,  folding  together,  united  into  one  great  flame  through- 
out the  whole  street  ;  and  then  you  might  see  the  houses 
tumble,  tumble,  tumble,  from  one  end  of  the  street  to  the 
other,  with  a  great  crash,  leaving  the  foundations  open  to  the 
view  of  the" heavens. 

"  And  now  horrible  flakes  of  fire  mounted  up  to  the  sky, 
and  the  yellov/  smoke  of  London  ascended  up  towards  heaven, 
like  the  smoke  of  a  great  furnace — a  gmoke  so  great  as  dark- 
ened the  sun  at  noonday.  If,  at  any  time,  the  sun  peeped 
forth,  it  looked  red  like  blood.  The  cloud  of  smoke  was  so 
great  that  travellers  did  ride  at  noonday  some  miles  in  the 
shadow  thereof,  though  there  wag  no  other  cloud  beeide  lo  be 
seen  in  the  sky  !'' 

And  yet  all  this  apparent  waste  of  property  by  fire  is  now 
supposed  to  have  been  a  mercy  and  a  real  benefit  to  London, 
It  demolished  vile  streets,  wretched  houses,  and  buildings, 
built  in  miserable  taste,  and  opened  a  chance  for  new  streets, 
wider  and  more  wholesome  than  the  old  ones,  new  houses, 
and  new  edifices,  built  upon  the  principles  of  a  correct  taste. 
Often  in  the  world,  if  we  observe,  we  shall  gee  that  what  in 
the  present  appear  as  calamitiea  the  future  proves  to  be 
blessings. 

The  whole  top  of  the  Monument  is  inclosed  by  an  iron 
net- work.  It  was  erected  a  few  years  since,  because  jump- 
ing "from  the  top  of  the  Monument  had  become  a  popular  way 
of  committing  suicide.  The  last  suicide  which  occurred  was 
but  one  of  the  many  tragedies  enacted  privately  in  this  world 
of  ours. 

A  young  woman  in  a  wealthy  family  was  seduced  with 
the  solemn  promise  of  marriage  by  a  scion  of  nobility.     She 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  183 

was  yoimg,  fond,  and  beautiful,  and  loved  "  not  wisely,  but, 
alas,  too  well."  Week  after  week  did  the  cruel  seducer 
postpone  the  day  of  marriage,  until  at  length  the  truth  began 
dimly  to  dawn  upon  the  young  creature's  soul.  The  truih  ! 
— that  he  had  dishonored  her,  and  was  a  liar  and  a  villain. 
And  yet  so  deeply-rooted  was  her  love,  she  could  not  loathe 
him,  but  clung  to  his  promise  still  longer,  till  at  last  a  report 
came  to  her  ears  that  he  ivas  to  be  married,  but  7tot  to  her. 
Ordering  a  close  cabriolet  and  driver,  she  went  to  the  rooms 
of  the  seducer,  and  asked  him  plainly  if  the  report  were  true. 
He  was  thunderstruck,  and  knew  hardly  what  to  say. 

"  Y/ill  you  marry  me  ?"  shrieked  the  now  half-mad  girh 

He  protested  that  he  loved  her,  and  had  always  loved  her, 
but  she  asked, 

"  Will  you  marry  me  V 

They  were  not  alone — his  young  companions  were  about 
him — but  she  saw  no  one  but  him,  heard  no  one  bat  hira, 
and  asked  but  the  one  question  : 

"  Will  you  marry  me  ?" 

At  last  his  answer  came — he  loved  her,  but  his  station 
forbade  the  marriage — he  would  like  to,  but  Fate  said — 

"iVb/" 

In  a  moment  she  was  gone.  To  the  driver  she  said,  "  To 
the  Fire  Monument  !"  and  a  little  while  after  a  horse  all 
smoking  stood  before  it,  and  a  young  woman  drapped  a  six- 
pence into  the  palm  of  the  keeper.  He  noticed  she  looked 
wild,  and  trembled  excessively,  but  suspected  nothing  wrong. 
Swiftly  she  glided  up  that  winding  staircase,  and  soon  stood 
alone  at  the  summit !  It  v/as  the  w^ork  of  an  instant — 
she  stands  on  the  giddy  edge — she  balances  in  the  air  for  a 
second — a  slight  shriek — a  groan  of  horror  from  the  crowd 
below,  who  notice  her  too  late  to  save  her — and  &he  lies  a 
mangled  corpse  on  the  pavement  below. 

This  is  a  tradi^ioi?  of  the  Monument. 


184  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 


A  JEWISH  SYNAGOGUE. 


One  pleasant  Saturday  morning  we  accompanied  a  friend 
on  a  visit  to  the  Synagogue  of  St.  Helen's — the  best  Syna- 
gogue in  London,  and  perhaps  in  Europe.  We  walked  from 
Bishopsgate  into  Crosby  Square,  and  from  there  through  a 
narrow  lane  to  the  bailding,  the  exterior  of  v/hich  does  not 
prepossess  the  observer  in  its  fivor.  It  is  situated  in  a  dirty 
quarter  of  London,  where  Jews  of  all  classes  and  conditions 
c-ongregate,  and  is  but  a  little  distance  from  the  Rag  Fair, 
which  is  kept  up  by  the  poorer  class  of  Jews.  We  went 
often  through  this  part  of  London,  and  several  times  when 
the  Rag  Fair  was  in  full  operation,  and  invariably  came 
away  disgusted.  The  confusion  on  such  occasions  can  scarce- 
ly be  described.  A  large,  open  court  is  filled  with  men  and 
women  of  ghastly,,  avaricious  countenances,  and  dressed  in 
decayed  habiliments.  The  commodity  which  they  sell  and 
buy  is — rags,  and  nothing  else.  Old  clothes,  and  hats,  and 
boots  are  bought  up  by  large  dealers  from  the  smaller  ones, 
and  are  shipped  to  Ireland,  and  indeed  all  parts  of  the  v/orld. 
Old  men  and  women  continually  traverse  the  streets  of  London 
with  their  cries  of  "  Old  clo' !  old  clo' !"  purchasing  for  a  merely 
nominal  sum  of  money  all  worn-out  garments,  of  whatever 
description.  The  Rag  Fair  is  held  two  days  in  each  week,  in 
Houndsditch — a  street  principally  monopolized  by  the  Jews. 

The  Synagogue  was  in  this  region,  and  we  were  little  ex- 
pecting the  sight  which  was  soon  presented  to  us.  Passing 
into  the  interior,  we  forgot  ourselves,  and  pulled  off  our  hats 
as  usual  in  a  place  of  worship,  but  were  quickly  reminded  of 
our  mistake,  for  we  were  requested  by  an  officer  to  put  them 
on  again  I  It  was  in  their  eyes  a  violation  of  the  sanctity  of 
the  place  to  remain  uncovered. 

The  place  was  crowded — the  lower  part  was  devoted  to 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  185 

males,  and  the  galleries  to  females.  Every  man  wore  his 
hat  and  the  taled,  a  white,  embroidered  scarf.  The  interior 
is  of  no  great  extent,  and  yet  it  wore  an  air  of  spaciousness 
and  elegance  which  surprised  us.  It  is  said  to  be  one  of  the 
finest  specimens  of  interior-architecture  to  be  found  in  London, 
The  upper  portion  of  the  place — wltfere  the  altar  usually 
stands  in  churches — the  "  ark,"  consists  of  a  beautiful  recess 
a  little  elevated  from  the  floor  of  the  rest  of  the  building,  and 
is  built  of  fine  Italian  marble.  A  splendid  velvet  curtain, 
in  red,  hangs  over  the  lower  part  of  the  alcove,  fringed  with 
gold,  aud  emblazoned  Math  a  crown.  In  this  recess  are  kept 
the  books  of  the  Law.  Between  rich  Doric  and  Corinthian 
colunnis  are  three  arched  windows,  with  stained,  arabesque 
glass.  Upon  the  centre  one  is  the  name  of  Jehovah,  in 
Hebrew,  and  the  tables  of  the  Law  and  this  sentence  : 

"  KNOW    IN    WHOSE    PRESENCE    THOU    STANDEST." 

The  appearance  of  this  recess  from  where  we  stood  was 
exquisitely  beautiful.  The  lower  portion  of  it  was  the  "  Ark," 
or  "  a  shadoiv  of  that  in  the  Temple."  The  decorations 
were  gorgeous,  and  as  the  sunlight  from  the  beautiful  eastern 
windows  fell  upon  it,  we  could  almost  unite  with  the  Jews 
present  in  their  feelings  of  reverence  for  that  holy  spot.  As 
the  worship  proceeded,  we  listened  with  intense  interest,  for 
it  was  our  first  visit  to  such  a  place,  and  to  us  the  Jews  have 
always  seemed  a  melancholy,  interesting  class  of  religionists. 
It  .seemed  as  if  we  were  living  in  David's  or  Abraham's  days, 
and  were  mingling  with  them  in  worship.  Yet  we  missed 
the  glorious  Temple  of  old,  and  there  was  a  look  on  the  faces 
of  all  the  Jews  present  which  told  of  their  state  of  dispersion 
and  desolation.  While  we  were  there,  they  sang  some  He- 
brew melodies,  and  they  were  exceedingly  plaintive.  There 
was  a  wild  sorrowfulness  in  them  which  it  was  touching  to 


Iiy6  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

near.     The  women  in  the  galleries  sang  with  excellent  skill 
but  the  gentle  mournfulness  of  their  songs  reminded  us  of 

when — 

"  By  the  rivers  of  Babylon  there  we  sat  down,  yea,  we  wept,  when 
we  remembered  Zion." 

The  galleries  were  a  beautiful  spectacle — in  England  we 
never  saw  a  more  beautiful  collection  of  women.  The  most 
of  them  had  the  prominent  features  of  Jewish  female  beauty 
— dark  hair,  flashing  black  eyes,  and  a  tender  expression. 
They  are  said  to  be  the  most  affectionate  wives  and  mothers 
in  the  world. 

The  countenances  of  the  men  we  cannot  say  were  prepos- 
sessing. There  was  an  eager,  avaricious  look  upon  almost 
every  face.  Yet  we  could  see  that  they  were  in  earnest 
about  their  worship.  It  is  a  prominent  feature  in  their  char- 
acter— an  intensity  of  devotion  to  whatever  they  pursue,  in 
religion  as  well  as  business. 

One  significant  fact  was  given  to  us  by  a  Londoner,  and  it 
is,  that  no  people  in  the  world  give  more  to  the  poor  than  the 
Jews.  In  the  Synagogue  ^ve  visited,  a  Jew  never  passes 
by  it  without  adding  something  to  its  wealth.  Not  a  Jew  is 
ever  allowed  by  his  fellow  religionists  to  come  upon  the  parish, 
and  every  one  is  allowed  a  respectable  burial,  however  de- 
cayed in  circumstances.  The  professed  followers  of  Jesus 
Christ — He  who  inculcated  generosity  to  the  poor — may  well 
learn  a  lesson  in  this  respect  from  these  Hebrews,  for  their 
fellow  church-members  are  allowed  to  perish  with  paupers 
and  make  their  resting-place  with  the  world's  outcast,  be- 
cause of  poverty ! 

The  morning  service  was  over,  and  we  passed  out  into  the 
street.  Although  it  was  Saturday,  the  streets  were  silent, 
solemn,  and  still.  They  were  "Jew-streets,"  and  they  keep 
their  Sabbath  with  the  greatest  show  of  decorum.     Hounds- 


REMARKABLE    PLACES.  187 

ditch,  which  every  other  day  of  the  week  is  crowded  with  a 
disagreeable  population,  now  was  quiet  and  pleasant.  As 
soon,  however  as  we  had  passed  into  Bishopsgate-street,  we 
\^-ere  among  Christians,  and  the  tumult  was  great  as  ever, 
and  the  change  striking  and  painful. 

There  are  in  London  over  20,000  Jews,  and  they  are  an 
exceedingly  industrious  class  of  people.  We  need  not  say 
faat  some  of  theni  are  very  wealthy.  The  Rothschilds,  Solo- 
mons, and  others,  are  among  the  wealthiest  men  of  the  world. 
As  a  religious  class,  the  Jews  in  former  years  suffered  terrible 
persecutions,  and  they  cannot  now  sit  in  Parliament  as  legis- 
lators. Once,  in  London,  the  Jews  set  fire  to  their  own 
houses,  and  with  their  wives  and  children  voluntarily  per- 
ished in  the  flames,  to  escape  from  their  infernal  Christian 
persecutors  !  A  terrible  vengeance  has  come  upon  them  for 
their  cruel  treatment  of  Christ  and  the  early  Christians 
Thank  heaven,  the  days  of  religious  persecution  in  England 
are  nearly  past ! 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

THE    ARISTOCRACY. 

THE  aristocracy  of  England  boast  much  of  their  descent 
from  the  Normans.  The  Normans  were  rapacious  conquer- 
ors, and  destitute  of  anything  like  Christian  morality.  They 
were  moreover  descended  from  the  Danes,  a  barbarous  race 
cf  people.  The  history  of  England  shows  clearly  that  what- 
'jver  in  that  country  is  good  and  noble,  has  been  earned  by 
the  common  people.  The  civil  and  religious  liberties  of  the 
nation  were  demanded  and  obtained  by  the  people  ;  its  glory 
in  arms  ;  its  still  more  brilliant  fame  in  letters — everything 
worth  preserving  has  sprung  from  the  people.  The  aristocracy 
has  been  always  the  deadly  enemy  of  liberty,  and  has  always 
oppressed,  and  now  oppresses  the  people.  Says  that  great 
man,  Eichard  Cobden  : — 

"  I  warn  the  Aristocracy  not  to  force  the  people  to  look 
into  the  subject  of  taxation, — not  to  force  them  to  see  how 
they  have  been  robbed,  plundered,  and  bamboozled  lor  ages 
by  them." 

Says  John  Bright,  Cobden's  coadjutor : — 

*'  I  hope  the  day  will  arrive  when  the  English  people  will 
throw  off  the  burdens  with  which  they  are  oppressed  by  this 
Aristocracy,  and  stand  forth  the  bravest,  the  freest,  and  the 
most  virtuous  people  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

The  people  are  ground  into  the  earth  by  taxation,  which 
does  not,  as  it  ought,  fall  upon  property.     The  enormous  debt 


THE    AKISTOCRACY.  189 

of  England  was  incurred  by  English  aristocrats.  In  1696 
the  ministers  of  William  of  Orange  proposed  the  bold  and  in- 
iquitous scheme  of  borrowing  money  at  ruinous  rates  of  inter- 
est, and  saddling  the  debt  upon  the  unborn  generations  of 
Britain.  The  aristocracy  to  wage  war  against  liberty  abroad, 
in  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  incurred  a  debt  of  eight  hun- 
dred and  thirty-four  millio7is  pounds  sterling  I  The  con- 
sequence was  that  provisions  rose  in  price,  that  taxation  be- 
came oppressive,  while  at  the  same  time  the  common  people 
were  not  allowed  the  privileges  of  citizenship,  which  is  the 
case  at  present.  The  reader  can  scarcely  imagine  the  extent 
of  the  rapacity  of  the  English  nobles.  An  enormous  list  of 
aristocrats  are  pensioned  upon  the  Government.  We  will 
merely  give  a  few  samples  : 

Earl  Cowper  has  a  hereditary  pension  of      $6,000 

Lord  Colchester  "  "  15,000 

Viscount  Canning  "  "  15,000 

Duke  of  Grafton  "  "  50,000 

Duke  of  Manchester  "  "  10,000 

Duke  of  Marlborough  "  "  20,000 

Duke  of  Wellington  "  "  20,000 

These  are  not  a  moiety  of  the  whole  number  of  pensioners 
Every  ex- Ambassador  has  a  pension  for  life  ;  there  are  legal 
pensions  amounting  yearly  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars. 
Every  ex-Chancellor  receives  for  life  $25,000  a  year.  But 
perhaps  the  most  iniquitous  of  all  the  pensions  are  those  taken 
out  of  the  Post  Office  revenue,  and  given  to  the  heirs  of 
Charles  II. 's  bastard  children  ;  the  sum  annually  amounting 
to  $100,000  ! 

The  Government  Offices  are  monopolized  by  the  aristocracy, 
and  have,  as  a  matter  of  course,  attached  to  them  enorm  ma 
salaries,  "The  following  are  only  a  specimen  : 


190  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Salary. 

Lord  Chancellor           $75,000 

Vice  Chancellor 30,000 

Chief  Justice,  aueen'sj  Bench 40,000 

Chief  Clerk,            ditto               .      .     .     .     .     .  45,000 

Chief  Justice,  Common  Pleas 40,000 

Lord  Chancellor  of  Ireland 40,000 

Lord  Lieutenant  of  Ireland 100,000 

Governor  General  of  Bengal 125,000 

Home  Secretary     ....           .....  25,000 

Colonial  Secretary 25,000 

Chief  Baron  of  Exchequer 35,000 

Master  of^  Rolls 35,000 

These  are  specimens  of  the  salaries  attached  to  Govern- 
ment Offices,  all  of  which  are  in  the  hands  of  the  aristocracy. 

And  yet  the  people  laid  the  foundation  of  English  free  in- 
stitutions— and  the  aristocracy  tried  to  destroy  them.  The 
people  have  earned  money,  and  the  aristocracy  have  spent  it. 
The  people  planted  America,  and  the  aristocracy  lost  it. 
The  people  pay  the  interest  upon  the  National  Debt,  and  the 
aristocracy  invented  it ! 


THE  NOBLES. 

The  English  Aristocracy  is,  however,  in  point  of  morality 
and  virtue,  superior  to  that  of  any  country  in  Europe.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  of  this  we  think.  Not  by  any  means  are  all 
of  its  members  virtuous,  but  the  general  tone  of  aristocratic 
society  in  England  is  higher  than  on  the  continent.  There 
are  cases  of  notoriety  where  a  worse  than  French  morality  is 
openly  professed,  but  they  are  exceptions.  The  majority  of 
English  noblemen  are  quite  respectable  in  their  outward  con- 
duct, and  some  of  them  are  worthy  of  being  held  up  as  mod- 


THE    ARISTOCRACY.  191 

els  of  true  gentlemen  the.  world  over.  But  when  you  have 
given  the  class  credit  for  common  morality,  you  are  done. 
They  are  not  philanthropists,  they  are  not  workers — in  fact 
they  do  nothing  which  is  good,  their  great  aim  being  pleas 
ure.  As  a  body  they  stand  aloof  from  the  rest  of  the  world, 
superior  to  the  vulgar  herd  in  their  own  estimation,  and  are 
enormous  consumers,  but  no  producers. 

Generally  speaking,  the  members  of  the  aristocracy  are 
finely  educated,  have  a  cultivated  love  for  the  fine  arts,  and 
patronize  men  of  genius.  In  this  manner  they,  without  in- 
tending it,  do  some  good,  for  they  give  to  learning  and  genius 
an  importance  which  they  would  lack,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
world,  without  their  patronage.  But  they  never  use  their 
own  talents  to  any  purpose — if  they  are  blessed  with  any, 
which  is  not  often  the  case.  It  is  intensely  disagreeable  for  a 
nobleman  to  work — to  accomplish  anything.  Of  course  we 
speak  of  hereditary  nobles — not  of  those  who  have  earned 
their  titles.  Still  a  certain  kind  of  good  results  from  this  in- 
activity on  the  part  of  the  nobles.  It  being  entirely  out  of 
character  for  them  to  work,  to  trade,  to  paint,  to  write,  or  act 
as  philanthropists,  as  a  natural  result  they  devote  their  ener- 
gies to  themselves,  and  their  homes.  They  employ  the  finest 
architects  to  build  castles  in  which  to  dwell  ;  have  created 
the  most  beautiful  parks  ;  purchase  paintings  and  statuary  ; 
study  constantly  how  they  may  beautify  and  improve  their 
homes.  Selfishness  is  at  the  root  of  it  all,  but  notwithstand- 
ing that,  a  benefit  of  a  certain  kind  accrues  to  the  country 
and  people.  It  begets  a  love  for  the  beaut'ful,  seduces  the 
national  mind  away  from  its  devotion  to  cold  trade  and  com- 
merce. But  the  good  by  no  means  compensates  for  the  evil 
produced  by  the  same  class,  and  such  an  aristocracy  is  a  dear 
one  for  any  country. 

The  nobles  as  a  class  are  noted  for  generosity,  and  yet  there 
are  exceptions,  one  of  which  we  will  mention. 


192  AVHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

There  is  a  certain  Duke  in  England  who  is  notorious  foi 
his  parsimony.  A  more  selfish  man  does  not  exist.  Often 
when  at  his  ccnntry-seat,  with  his  own  hands  he  sells  milk 
to  the  countFy-j>eople,  and  on  a  certain  occasion  received  a 
pungent  rebiike  from  a  little  girl.  One  morning  the  daugh- 
ter of  poor  parents,  a  young  girl,  came  for  a  penny's  worth  of 
-^^A^,  S.E.d  the  Duke,  being  in  his  dairy-house,  measured  out 
a  small  quantity  into  the  little  girl's  cup,  saying  : 

"  You  can  tell  the  world  as  long  as  you  live,  that  a  Duke 
once  measured  out  for  you  a  cup  of  milk  I" 

"  Yes,"  answered  the  innocent  girl,  looking  wistfully  at  the 
copper  coin  which  the  Duke  had  received  from  her,  and  which 
now  lay  in  his  palm, 

"  Yes — but  you  took  the  penny  /'^ 

There  are  cases  of  open  libertinism  among  the  nobility, 
which  would  shock  the  reader — but  still  the  general  outward 
conduct  of  the  Enghsh  nobles  is  good.  The  women  are  how- 
ever far  superior  to  the  men  in  virtue,  beauty,  and  sympa 
thy  for  the  poor.  Some  of  the  ladies  among  the  aristocracy, 
while  in  Paris,  imitate  the  French  women,  and  have  their 
train  of  lovers,  but  it  is  foreign  to  the  nature  of  an  Enghsh 
woman  to  carry  on  an  intrigue,  and  when  she  attempts  it  she 
generally  fails.  It  constitutes  the  hfe  of  many  French  ladies, 
and  their  expertness  in  concealing  secret  love  from  the  eyes 
f  a  careful  mother  or  a  jealous  husband  is  surprising  ;  but 
he  English  woman,  though  she  lacked  principle,  has  not  the 
exquisite  tact  of  the  Parisian. 

The  women  among  the  nobility  are  distinguished  for  theii 
beauty,  and  with  good  reason.  In  matiy  instances,  however, 
their  beauty  is  more  masculine  than  that  of  the  American 
women. 

We  once  met  in  an  anteroom  of  the  Italian  Opera  House 


THE    ARISTOCRACY.  103 

one  of  the  oost  distinguished  beauties  of  England.  .^  Said  outf 
friend  in  a  wliisper  : 

"  Do  you  see  the  lady  yonder  arranging  a  shawl — and  the 
gentleman  at  her  side  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  They  are  Lord  and  Lady  H- !" 

"  You  must  be  mistaken,"  we  replied,  ''that  woman  can- 
not be  Lady  H ."     But  our  friend  was  correct.     We  had 

often  heard  much  of  her  beauty,  and  indeed  she  Avas  beauti- 
ful, but  there  was  no  spirituality  in  her  features,  no  intellect, 
but  a  rough,  sensual  beauty.  Such  is  the  case  with  some  of 
the  English  female  aristocracy,  but  as  a  class,  in  beauty  we 
think  they  are  peerless  At  least  as  an  aristocratic  class  of 
females  they  are  so.  There  is  an  exquisite  dignity  in  their 
manners  one  rarely  sees  out  of  England,  and  they  have  the 
art  of  preserving  their  beauty  to  old  age.  This  is  a  striking 
characteristic  of  the  female  beauty  of  England — it  does  not 
decay  until  old  age.  Beautiful  women  at  fifty  years  of  age 
are  no  uncommon  sight  in  London. 

The  Duchess  of  Sutherland  is,  though  old,  yet  a  very  beau- 
tiful woman.  We  saw  her  one  day  in  a  carriage  with  the 
Queen,  and  could  hardly  believe  that  there  is  a  wide  differ- 
ence in  years  between  them,  which  is  the  fact.  For  many 
years  she  was  considered  the  most  beautiful  woman  at 
court. 

There  are  several  women  whose  names  we  might  mention, 
who  are  noted  for  their  great  beauty,  among  the  English  fe- 
male aristocracy,  but  we  are  not  attempting  to  sketch  the 
belles  of  London. 

Aristocracy  in  England  is  much  more  dignified  than  that 
of  America — for  it  is  useless  denying  that  we  have  an  aristoc- 
racy. Ours  is  as  yet  puny,  young  and  not  oppressive.  The 
English  aristocracy  has  at  least  an  excuse  for  existence,  as  it 
is  incorporated  with  the  Constitution,  and  if  it  be  more  highly 
^  13 


194  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

intellectual  than  ours,  it  is  a  thousand  times  more  cruel  in  iU 
exactions. 

Aristocracy  in  America  is  a  plaything  yet — the  great  peojne 
laugh  at  it,  knowing  that  real  power  is  theirs  in  all  political 
matters.  Feeling  thus,  they  care  little  about  the  pretensions 
t)f  any  family,  or  clique  of  I'amilies.  There  is  no  throne  to 
endanger — no  manner  in  which  any  such  family  or  families 
can  endanger  the  liberties  of  the  land,  for  a  band  of  shoe- 
makers in  a  country-village  are  their  equals  in  the  eye  of  the 
law.  A  sorry  sight  it  is  wlien  the  aristocracy  of  the  land, 
instead  of  being  the  plaything  of  the  people,  make  a  play- 
thing of  the  people,  eating  out  their  incomes,  starving  them  by 
terrible  taxation,  and  stealing  away  their  political  rights. 
Such  is  the  case,  to  a  degree,  in  England. 

But  there  are  men  among  the  English  nobility  who  are 
worthy  of  honor.  The  Earl  of  Carlisle  is  such  a  rnan,  and 
his  noble  qualities  are  such,  that  we  shall  venture  to  draw  bin 
portrait  on  another  page. 

Lord  Ashley  is  widely  known  for  his  untiring  philanthropy 
Though  a  bigoted  man  in  some  respects,  he  is  devotedly  pious, 
and  is  constantly  engaged  in  some  good  work.  He  is  known 
extensively  lor  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Ragged-Schoo'.s. 
Himself  and  lady  are  in  high  repute  with  the  Q/Ueen.  In 
looks  Lord  Ashley  is  Norman ;  he  is  a  fair  speaker,  and  has 
enthusiasm,  a  quality  which  the  English  nobles  generally 
eschew.  Not  a  shade  of  enthusiasm  is  ever  perceptible  in  the 
oratory  displayed  in  the  House  of  Lords.  Anything  approach- 
ing to  it  is  considered  decidedly  vulgar. 

The  Earl  of  Arundel  and  Surrey  is  a  devoted  Christian, 
though  a  Roman  Catholic,  and  compares  favorably  \vith  many 
of  the  nobles  who  profess  Protestantism.  His  devotion  to  his 
tehgion  amounts  almost  to  fanaticism. 

Lord  Dudley  Stuart  is  an  ardent  liberalist,  and  is  chiefly 
irjiowii  for  his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Poland.     He  was  the 


THE    AKISJOCRACY  195 

champion  of  Kossuth  before  he  landed  in  England,  and  is  also 
now.  He  is  a  firm  friend  to  liberty,  and  is  an  unpleasant 
thorn  in  the  side  of  my  Lord  Palmerston,  the  Foreign  Secre- 
tary.    He  is  a  member  of  Parliament,  and  is  much  respected. 

Sir  William  Molesworth  is  a  thorough  radical,  and  there 
are  others  among  the  titled  class  M'ho  are  like  him.  It  is 
because  of  such  men  that  the  nobles  are  held  in  such 
esteem  in  England.  Were  they  openly  to  profess  immoral 
principles,  like  some  of  the  nobles  of  Europe,  and  were  they 
in  conduct  to  become  corrupt,  they  could  not  stand  a  year. 
Indeed,  as  it  is,  their  position  is  far  from  being  a  stable  one. 
Gradually  the  people  are  attacking  their  privileges,  and  they 
thus  far  have  had  the  good  sense  to  bow  quietly  before  the 
will  of  the  nation.  Had  they,  in  the  days  of  the  Reform  Bill 
Agitation,  or  Anti-Corn  Law  excitement,  remained  firm,  they 
would  have  been  swept  away  by  Revolution.  The  spirit  of 
the  age  is  against  such  a  class — against  its  unjust  usurpations 
of  power. 

A  member  of  the  humble  classes  of  society  cannot  gain 
admittance  into  noble  society.  Any  man  of  business,  of  trade, 
unless  a  great  and  exceedingly  wealthy  man,  and  worth  his 
millions,  cannot  enter  the  drawing-rooms  of  the  nobility.  An 
author  of  talent  can  go  there  ;  so  can  a  man  of  political  im- 
portance, or  your  millionaire,  if  refined  and  educated,  but  no 
common  man  of  business.  Still  every  young  man  can  hope 
to  rise  above  his  present  position,  and  if  successful,  he  can  re- 
linquish his  business,  and  with  a  million  of  dollars  set  up  for 
a  gentleman,  if  he  possesses  refinement,  and  then  he  can  walk 
into  Lord  Addlehead's  parlor. 

A  friend  of  ours,  an  English  merchant,  one  day  pointed  out 
to  us  one  of  the  wealthiest  men  in  London,  as  a  person  who 
was  once  his  father's  boot-black  I  He  rose  from  his  humble 
calling  first  to  be  a  clerk  ;  then  he  amassed  a  small  property 
bv  close  economy,  and  at  an  early  age  began  to  speculate  in 


196  WHAT    I    SAAV    IN    LONDON. 

the  Stocks.  In  a  few  years  he  became  immensely  rich, 
retired  from  business,  and  set  up  for  a  gentleman.  He  was 
by  nature  polite  and  intelligent,  and  soon  married  the  daughter 
of  a  reduced  baronet,  a  woman  very  celebrated  for  her  beauty. 
Jle  was  now  welcome  to  tbe  best  of  society,  but  through  the^ 
xtravagant  conduct  vi  his  wife  he  was  nearly  ruined.  Suoh 
was  her  desperate  fondness  for  a  gay  life,  that  only  a  few 
nights  after  a  confinement  she  went  to  the  theatre — and  died 
two  days  after.  After  her  death,  the  husband  once  mors  re- 
paired to  the  Stock  Exchange,  to  repair  his  damaged  fortune. 
The  first  day  he  netted  $45,000  I  After  winning  a  second 
fortune,  larger  than  the  first,  he  again  retired  from  business, 
and  entered  high  society. 

But  though  there  are  occasionally  such  cases  in  England, 
the  pressure  is  downward,  and  the  majority  of  enter}>rising 
minds  are  crushed  to  the  earth.  The  tendency  of  the  mon- 
archical and  aristocratical  system  is  to  keep  the  masses 
degraded,  to  isolate  a  few  from  all  the  rest,  to  crush  talent 
and  genius  among  the  multitude.  Literary  men  do  not  have 
the  position  that  they  deserve,  though  they  are  honored,  per- 
haps more  than  any  other  class  of  men  who  are  mere  com- 
moners, 

EARL  OF  CARLISLE 

There  are  really  so  few  lovable  characters  among  the 
English  nobility,  that  we  plead  no  excuse  for  devoting  a  short 
space  to  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  who  is  truly  worthy  of  honor 
and  renown,  for  his  admirable  qualities.  Such  a  man, 
whether  he  springs  from  a  hamlet  or  palace,  whether  his 
name  is  simple  or  garnished  with  lofty-sounding  titles,  de- 
serves to  be  held  up  for  the  imitation  of  the  world.  Such 
men,  we  have  observed,  whatever  their  social  position,  are 
not  prcMcL.     Believing  in  the  worth  of  the  soul,  in  the  dig- 


THE    ARISTOCRACY.  197 

nity  of  simple  manhood,  they  cannot  be  proud  of  mere  titles, 
or  garters. 

The  Earl  of  Carlisle  sits  in  the  House  of  Lords,  and  is 
well  known  as  an  advocate  of  Liberalism.  He  was  formerly 
(and  is  even  now  better  known  as)  Lord  Morpeth,  until  at 
the  death  of  his  father,  when  he  became  a  peer  of  the  realm, 
through  hereditary  right,  and  took  his  seat  in  the  House  of 
Lords.  He  belongs  to  one  of  the  noblest  families  in  the  king- 
dom, that  of  the  Howards,  whose  blood,  according  to  English 
notions,  is  perhaps  the  purest  and  gentlest  in  the  land.  He 
is  also  connected  by  marriage  with  the  Houses  of  Eutland, 
Caudor,  Durham,  and  Stafford.  Among  the  aristocracy  of 
England  no  one  stands  higher  than  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  is  universally  popular  with  the  middle 
and  lower  classes.  There  is  a  genial  love  for  him  every- 
where, principally  because  of  his  mild  and  philanthropic  dis- 
position. As  a  matter  of  course  his  advocacy  of  liberal  sen- 
timents makes  him  popular  with  the  people,  and  perhaps 
slightly  disliked  among  the  worst  portion  of  the  nobility.  He 
is  a  friend  of  authors  and  artists,  and  in  society  does  not  ex 
hibit  any  of  that  odious  exclusiveness  which  disgraces  m, 
many  of  the  English  aristocrats. 

He  seems  to  be  above  no  man  of  real  goodness  or  genius 
and  in  a  thousand  ways  has  testified  his  love  of  humanity 
In  a  public  speech  he  once  happily  spoke  of  Charles  Dickens, 
as : — 

"  That  bright  and  genial  nature,  the  master  of  our  sunni- 
est smiles,  and  our  most  unselfish  tears,  whom,  as  it  is  impos- 
sible to  read  without  the  most  ready  and  pliant  sympathy,  i 
is  impossible  to  know  (I  at  least  have  found  it  so)  without  a 
depth  of  respect  and  a  warmth  of  affection  "which  a  singular 
union  of  rare  qualities  alike  command." 

For  many  years  Lord  Morpeth  (or  the  Earl  of  Carlisle)  sat 
in  Parliament  for  the  West  Riding,  the  largest  and  most  hon- 


198  WHAT    1    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

orable  constituency  in  England,  but  in  1841,  strangely,  he 
was  defeated,  to  the  great  sorrow  of  the  whole  nation.  A 
plenty  of  other  places  were  open  to  him,  but  he  refused  to  sit 
for  any  of  them,  and  made  a  tour  to  America,  where  he  made 
many  admirers  and  friends  both  at  the  South  and  North.  In 
Washington  circles  he  will  long  be  remembered. 

On  the  death  of  Lord  Wharncliffe  a  vacancy  occurred  in 
the  AYest  R-iding,  and  Lord  Morpeth  was  returned  to  Parlia- 
ment without  the  opposition  of  a  single  voter.  E-ichard 
Cobden,  the  great  champion  of  Free  Trade,  sits  in  the  House 
of  Commons  for  the  West  Riding  at  present,  Lord  Morpeth 
being  in  the  House  of  Lords,  having  assumed  the  titles  of  his 
late  father,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle. 

Through  his  whole  political  life  he  has  been  identified  with 
the  Liberal- Whig  party,  early  giving  in  his  adhesion  to  Cob- 
den's  Free  Trade  movement.  Since  1846  he  has  been  a 
member  of  the  E-ussell  Ministry,  and  is  well  known  as  an  en- 
ergetic friend  of  all  sanitary  reforms.  His  philanthropy  is 
unquestionable,  as  he  is  very  zealous  in  endeavoring  to  better 
the  condition  of  the  laboring  population  of  Great  Britain. 
When  a  man  is  zealous  for  freedom's  cause  abroad,  but  not 
at  his  own  doors,  one  may  well  doubt  his  sincertty,  but  the 
Earl  of  Carlisle  is  anxious  to  improve  the  condition  of  his 
fellow-men  in  England.  He  does  not  hesitate  to  deliver  lec- 
tures before  common  Mechanics'  Institutes,  and  aids  all  edu- 
cational schemes.  He  is  a  man  of  talent,  and  a  very  eloquent 
speaker,  and  can  make  himself  acceptable  to  common  men, 
and  also  to  the  best  educated  men,  for  his  best  speeches  are 
noted  for  the  classical  purity  of  their  style. 

At  a  great  dinner,  given  by  the  Mayor  of  London,  before 
the  Crystal  Palace  was  built,  and  in  honor  of  the  (then)  pro- 
posed project,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  when  called  on  for  a  toast, 
gave  "  The  working-men  of  the  United  Kingdom"  in  connec- 
tion with  the  great  Exhibition  of  the  Industry  of  the  World, 


THE    ARISTOCRACl'.  191^ 

and  made  a  most  eloquent  speech  in  honor  of  those  men  who 
are  the  true  glory  of  any  land. 

We  have  often  heard  radicals  in  London  who  detest  the 
aristocracy  root  and  branch,  speak  enthusiastically  in  his 
praise  as  an  exception  to  the  rest.  He  is  indeed  an  extraor- 
dinary man.  It  is  extraordinary  in  Europe  to  find  a  man 
born  to  the  highest  titles,  yet  a  simple-hearted  philanthropist. 
Such  a  man  stands  out  in  hold  relief  from  the  great  mass  of 
the  selfish  English  noblemen,  and  teaches  us  how  much  good 
they  might  accomplish  if  they  were  so  disposed. 

The  personal  appearance  of  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  is  good. 
When  the  stranger  looks  down  upon  him  from  the  gallery  in 
the  gorgeous  House  of  Lords,  he  at  once  selects  him  from 
among  his  peers,  by  his  appearance,  as  the  noblest  of  them 
all.  He  has  a  fine,  full  forehead  ;  full,  pleasant  face  ;  rich 
lips  ;  and  a  mild  pair  of  eyes.  His  hair  is  generally  careless- 
ly disposed,  giving  him  an  artless  look,  which  is  captivating. 
His  dress  is  generally  rich,  but  at  the  same  time  plain.  It  is 
vulgar  in  England  to  dress  showily.  The  passion  for  gaudy 
dress,  which  possesses  so  many  people,  is  entirely  condemned 
among  the  nobles  of  England.  Plainness  of  attire  is  prover 
bial  in  such  circles. 

When  speaking  the  Earl  does  not  use  much  gesticulation, 
but  what  he  does  is  graceful  and  true  to  nature. 

Since  his  return  to  England  from  America,  he  has  in  two 
or  three  public  lectures  stated  some  of  his  opinions  of  our 
country,  its  men,  and  institutions,  and  they  show  his  thorough 
liberality  of  sentiment.  He  is  far  more  just  towards  us  than 
tnany  profound  English  radicals.  He  speaks  fairly  of  our 
voluntaryism  in  religion,  and  of  universal  suffrage.  In  speak- 
ing of  public  men,  he  calls  Henry  Clay  the  most  fascinating 
public  man  he  ever  knew,  save  Mr.  Canning  ;  Mr.  Legare  of 
South  Carolina  (who  died  a  few  years  since),  he  thinks  was 
one  of  the  best  classical  scholars  in  America,  and  John  Q,uincv 


200  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Adams  "  was  truly  an  '  old  man  eloquent  I'  "  Congresp  At 
characterizes  as  "disorderly,"  at  times,  and  as  he  witnessed 
some  exciting  scenes  while  in  Washington,  that  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at. 

As  a  whole,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  is  a  man  whose  character 
is  an  honor  to  any  country,  and  especially  so  to  the  order  to 
which  he  belongs.  If  there  were  more  such  men  among  the 
aristocracies  of  Europe,  there  would  be  no  danger  of  bloody 
revolutions,  for  Revolution  is  the  daughter  of  Oppression. 

LORO  BROUGHAM. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  man  in  England  about  whom  there  is 
such  a  strong  curiosity  among  strangers  as  Lord  Brougham. 
His  reputation  has  been  so  great  and  wide,  his  connection 
with  political  matters  so  notorious,  that  when  the  foreigner 
enters  the  House  of  Lords  he  first  asks  for  Brougham.  But 
when  he  is  pointed  out,  when  you  gaze  upon  the  man,  yov 
are  wo  fully  disappointed.  What  ! — that  man  the  Ex-Chan- 
cellor Brougham,  upon  whose  face,  lips,  nose,  cheeks,  and 
chin  seem  all  crowded  together  ?  That  man  who  cannot 
sit  still  for  five  consecutive  minutes  ;  who  jumps  "up  contin- 
ually with  interruptions  of  the  speaker  ;  v/ho  has  a  painful, 
nervous  twitching  of  the  face  ;  the  man,  in  short,  who  im- 
presses you  with  the  idea  of  some  harmless  lunatic  ?  Yes— 
that  certainly  is  the  wreck  of  the  great  Brougham.  For  we 
believe  that  none  of  his  best  friends  contend  that  he  now  pos- 
sesses all  the  faculties  which  he  once  possessed.  Age  has 
rusted  out  some  of  them,  and  there  are  people  who  believe 
the  man  insane.  We  presume  not,  however.  He  is  certain- 
ly very  erratic,  incomprehensible,  without  Christian  principles, 
and  yet  a  great  genius  still.  He  is  the  wonder  of  the  nation, 
though  the  nation  no  longer  loves  him.  no  longer  is  charmed 
with  his  siren  eloquence.     But  because  of  great  services  he 


THE    ARISTOCRACY.  20 i 

once  rendered,  because  he  once  sunk  upon  his  knees  in  the 
House  of  Lords,  and,  in  tones  of  wondrous  magic,  plead  for 
the  cause  of  freedom  ;  because  he  once  dared  to  say  there — 
in  reference  to  the  influence  of  the  Q,ueen  over  the  mind  ol 
the  King — those  remarkable  antl  daring  words  :  "  She  has 
done  it  all  /" — the  people  of  England,  though  he  has  desert- 
ed them,  will  not  entirely  forget  him. 

There  was  perhaps  never  a  commoner  in  England,  with 
more  ambition  than  Harry  Brougham.  He  asked  place  and 
power  with  the  \ximo&i  sang  froicL  The  Government  wished 
his  services,  and  offered  him  as  respectable  a  post  as  they 
thought  it  wise  and  proper  to  give  a  mere  commoner.  He 
replied  to  the  offer  of  the  Premier,  that  he  would  not  take 
such  an  office. 

"  What  do  you  wish  ?"  was  the  question  of  the  surprised 
Minister. 

"  Nothing  or  the  Lord  Chancellorship  !"  was  the  reply. 
This  was  one  of  the  highest  offices  in  the  kingdom,  and  the 
occupant  must  by  virtue  of  his  oflice  become  the  Speaker  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  of  course  a  peer  of  the  realm.  But 
Brougham  was  a  mere  commoner. 

"You  are  not  a  peer,"  said  the  Prime  Minister. 

"  I  know  that,"  was  Brougham's  laconic  reply. 

Before  night  he  was  made  not  only  a  peer,  but  Lord  Chan- 
cellor. The  Government  could  not  afford  to  lose  him,  as  he 
was  the  great  idol  of  the  people,  and  so  it  bribed  him  over 
to  the  cause  of  the  aristocracy.  Only  a  few  days  before  at  a 
great  public  meeting.  Brougham  denied  a  rumor  that  he  was 
to  be  made  a  peer,  and  told  the  people  never  to  believe  that 
he  would  desert  them  until  they  saw  it.  They  did  see  it, 
and  will  never  forget  the  base  desertion.  Ever  since,  he  has 
been  detested  by  the  masses  of  the  nation,  and  it  would  seem 
as  if  then  he  lost  his  greatest  powers,  for  since  he  has  been  a 

peevish,  erratic  old  man — and  yet  at  times,  his  mighty  genius 
I* 


202  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

will  break  forth,  and  astonish  the  nation.  Perhaps  this  ag© 
can  boast  no  other  man  who  has  the  varied  acquirements  of 
Brougham.  He  hag  been  one  of  the  world's  greatest  orators; 
IS  a  great  lawyer  ;  a  severe  student  of  the  physical  sciences  ; 
and  a  skilful  political  economist 

Mr.  Brougham  was  born  in  Scotland,  and  was  admitted 
to  the  Scottish  l-ar  in  the  year  1800.  In  182G  he  was 
appointed  Attorney-General  to  the  unfortunate  Gtueen  Caroline, 
and  made  a  speech  which  lasted  two  days,  in  her  defence,  so 
eloquent,  so  masterly,  that  Lord  LiverjDool  abandoned  the 
prosecution  against  her  Majesty.  For  many  years,  plain 
Henry  Brougham  sat.  in  the  House  of  Commons.  He  was 
elected  Lord  Rector  of  the  Glasgow  University  by  the  casting 
vote  of  Sir  James  Macintosh,  in  opposition  to  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  the  great  poet  and  novelist.  He  nov/  enjoys  a  pension 
of  $25,000  a  year  as  retired  Chancellor  ;  is  a  Pri\y  Council- 
lor ;  President  of  the  London  University  ;  and  a  member  of 
the  National  Institute  of  France,  where— at  Carmes — he  has 
a  country-seat. 

He  is  a  strange  character.  Just  after  the  French  Revolu- 
tion of  1848,  he  applied  to  the  French  Government,  to  be 
made  a  citizen  of  the  republic,  and  yet  all  the  while  a  member 
of  the  House  of  Lords  in  England  I  All  Europe  was  in 
laughter  at  his  foolery.  Yet  it  was  a  fair  sample  of  the  man. 
He  seems  insane  upon  some  points.  He  sometimes  dresses 
foj)pishly,  and  then  again  as  carelessly  as  any  mechanic  in  the 
streets.  Yet  he  is  not  demented — he  possesses  a  violent 
love  for  eccentricity  and  originality.  He  has  before  now 
attacked  himself  in  one  newspaper,  and  defended  himself  in 
another  I  A  thousand  smgular  stories  are  current  in  London 
society  respecting  him  ;  some  invalidating  his  reputation  for 
intellect,  and  others  his  morality.  Enough  of  them  are  true 
to  give  countenance  to  the  rest,  and  thus  he  is  obliged  to 
shoulder  a  greater  amount  of  obloquy  than  he  m  reality  deserves. 


CHAPTER  X. 

JOURNALISM. 

The  Times. 

There  is  perhaps  no  single  town  in  the  world  which  executes 
BO  great  an  amount  of  printing  as  London.  There  are  many 
places,  where  there  are  more  newspapers,  daily  and  weekly, 
but  when  we  include  all  manner  of  periodicals  and  books, 
London  must  stand  at  the  head  of  the  world.  We  think  too, 
that  nowhere  else  has  journalism  become  so  brilliant  and 
lofty  a  profession.  Tiie  London  daily  papers  are  the  ablest  in 
the  world,  so  far  as  mere  writing  talent  is  concerned.  And 
first  of  all,  towering  far  aboYe  all  the  rest  in  stature  and 
importance  as  a  daily  paper  of  magnificent  editorial-talent, 
stands  the  London  Times.  It  is  what  it  has  once  styled  itself 
— the  leading  journal  of  Europe,  the  journal  which  is  read 
everywhere,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Ganges.  Whatever 
people  may  believe  as  the  principles  of  the  paper,  all  are 
agreed  in  one  point— that  it  is  the  mightiest  intellectual 
engine  in  the  world  ;  if  bad,  then  mightily  dangerous 

It  is  printed  and  published  in  Printing  House  Square,  a 
quiet  place  in  London,  and  a  visit  to  the  establishment  is  well 
worth  the  while  of  any  American.  Everything  in  its  vast 
apartments  is  conducted  v/ith  precision  and  wonderful  dispatch, 
and  one  is  struck  with  admiration  to  see  how  quietly  so  vast  a 
machine  can  perform  its  gigantic  labor. 


204  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

A  thousand  fingers,  a  thousand  pens  in  all  parts  of  the 
earth,  the  railway  engines,  steamers,  and  the  lightning  are 
constantly  at  work  to  feed  this  great  leviathan.  It  has  a  host 
of  editors,  and  regularly  paid  contributors  ;  it  has  able  corres- 
pondents everywhere — at  Paris,  Berlin  and  Vienna,  it  keeps 
men — often,  we  are  sorry  to  say,  to  fabricate  untruths — whose 
sole  business  is  to  furnish  matter  for  its  columns.  It  has 
reporters  almost  without  number — some  travelling  and  others 
stationary.  Every  word  spoken  in  either  House  of  Parlia- 
ment, at  night,  appears  in  the  next  morning's  Times.  Not 
an  occurrence  anywhere  escajes  its  quick  ear,  unless  it 
chooses  not  to  hear.  It  has  steamers  of  its  own,  and  often 
charters  steam-engines,  and  almost  monopolizes  the  electric 
telegraph.  It  pays  for  its  matter  most  liberally,  as  it  can  well 
afford  to  do.  It  chief  editor  receives  a  princely  salary,  and 
all  of  its  contributors  are  remunerated  in  a  splendid  manner. 
We  know  of  one  man,  a  conscientious  and  learned  English 
Professor,  who  was  a  few  years  since  seduced  by  old  Mr. 
Walter,  into  writing  a  few  articles  for  the  paper,  but  upon 
his  insisting  on  paying  him  in  a  princely  fashion,  the  honest 
Professor  stopped  his  communications — it  seemed  to  him  so 
much  like  bribery  ! 

As  a  property  the  Times,  is  one  of  the  best  in  Europe,  and 
could  not  be  purchased  to-day  for  millions  of  dollars.  It  has 
an  immense  circulation,  but  its  income  does  not  come  from 
that,  so  much  as  from  its  advertising  patronage.  That  is 
immense,  for  every  day  it  publishes  a  supplement  entirely 
devoted  to  advertisements  which  alone  is  as  large  as  the  usual 
papers,  and  this  is  oYten  doubled.  The  charges  for  advertising, 
too,  are  higher  in  London  than  here,  while  composition  and 
press-work  are  cheaper.  It  is  stated  that  old  Mr.  Walter, 
the  father  of  the  present  principal  proprietor,  gave  his  daughter 
for  a  marriage  present,  a  single  advertising  column  of  the 
paper,  and  that  it  was  really  in  itself  a  pretty  fortune      For 


JOURIS'ALISM.  206 

talent,  energy,  and  consummate  abilities  this  leviathan  sheet 
stands  at  the  head  of  journalism  in  Europe.  As  a  mere  iieivii 
sheet  we  do  not  admire  it,  for  it  is  in  that  department  sur- 
passed by  the  Daily  News,  but  in  the  splendor  of  its  editorials, 
as  far  as  talent  and  genius  go,  it  has,  perhaps  we  may  safely 
say,  no  equal  in  the  world. 

But  we  have  said  all  that  ca,n  be  said  in  its  favor.  There 
is  another  and  a  darker  side  to  be  looked  at.  There  does  not 
exist  in  Europe  a  more  unprincipled  journal  than  the  Times. 
Tliere  is  no  sheet  which  will  sell  itself  so  quick,  body  and 
soul,  for  gold.  It  does  not  even  profess  consistency — it  reflects 
the  times — save  when  a  millionaire,  or  a  foreign  despot  bribes 
it,  for  then  it  will  fight  against  the  current  of  public  opinion. 
It  is  owned  by  a  set  of  speculators  whose  entire  and  sole 
object  is  to  make  money  by  the  concern.  They  therefore 
advocate  that  which  will  pay  best,  and  principles  are  good  or 
bad  with  them  according  as  they  are  iiecuniarily  profitable. 
When  Cobden's  great  Anti-Corn-Law  Agitation  commenced, 
the  Times  ridiculed  and  abused  it.  But  the  nation  took  the 
question  up  in  earnest,  and  that  journal  saw  that  it  surely^ 
must  triumph.  Commercial  men  began  to  withdraw  adver- 
tising patronage.  On  Saturday  morning  the  paper  came  out 
opposed  entirely  and  thoroughly  to  Free  Trade — on  Monday 
morning  it  hoisted  the  colors  of  the  Anti-Corn-Law  League 
without  a  single  word  of  apology.  Every  item  in  the  paper 
which  had  a  bearing  upon  the  subject,  was  in  favor  of  Free 
Trade,  and  an  utter  stranger  upon  taking  up  the  sheet,  would 
have  supposed  it  to  be  an  old  advocate  of  its  new  opinions, 
England,  though  accustomed  to  its  pranks,  was  thunderstruck 

Its  unprincipled  character  is  best  seen  in  the  department 
for  foreign  news.  It  is  steadily — the  only  thing  it  is  steady 
m — the  enemy  of  human  liberty  in  Europe.  Its  continental 
news  can  never  be  trusted,  such  is  its  propensity  to  prevari- 
cate.    It  has  not  hesitated  for  a  moment  to  com  the  basest 


20G  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON, 

lies  against  Mazzini  and  Kossuth.  Its  course  ir.  this  matte  * 
has  aroased  the  indignation  of  univergal  Christendom.  Mr. 
Cobden,  in  an  eloquent  speech  in  reference  to  its  course 
against  the  poor  exiles  said  : 

**  How  shall  we  describe  those  indescribable  monsters  who, 
when  foes  are  fallen — when  they  are  gone  into  exile — when 
they  are  separated  from  their  wives  and  children — when  they 
are  shiTering  in  our  streets,  brought  down  from  lofty  places  to 
heg  their  bread  in  the  midst  of  winter—how  shall  AVe  de- 
scribe the  wretches  who  are  base  enough  to  traduce  thg 
character  of  these  men  ?  I  spoke  of  ghouls  and  vampires. 
They  prey  upon  corpses  and  the  material  body  ;  but  we  have 
no  monster  yet  by  which  we  can  describe  the  nature  of  him 
who  lives  by  destroying  the  character  of  a  fallen  foe." 

During  the  spring  of  1851,  the  Times  per-sisted  in  stating 
that  Mazzini  was  in  Genoa,  carrying  out  his  revolutionary 
projects.  Day  after  day  it  reiterated  this  statement,  and  yet 
we  knev/  that  he  was  in  London.  At  a  later  day  it  acknowl- 
edged his  return,  and  pretended  to  give  a  report  of  his  speech 
at  a  public  dinner.  In  the  report  occurred  the  following  sen- 
tence :—"  For  the  Emperor  I  would  substitute  the  people — 
for  the  Pope  Nature'"'  Here  was  a  deliberate,  premeditated 
lie,  for  Mazzini  said,  "  For  the  Emperor  I  would  substitute 
the  people— for  the  Pope  God  l"  The  object  of  the  Times 
was  to  prejudice  the  English  mind  against  the  Italian  hero, 
by  making  him  out  to  be  an  infidel  in  religious  matters.  But 
the  course  of  that  paper  in  reference  to  Kossuth,  has  damaged 
it  perceptibly  in  sale  and  reputation,  and  the  Engli&h  people 
will  never  forgive  it  for  its  base  conduct. 

We  have  it  upon  excellent  authority,  that  in  the  height  of 
the  French  Revolution,  the'  Paris  correspondent  of  the  Times 
came  to  London  in  hot  haste,  saying  to  the  proprietors  :  "  I 
cannot  pursue  my  present  course  of  misrepresentation  any 
longer  v»^ith  personal  safety  l"     The  uuprincipled  but  talented 


JOURNALISM.  207 

gentlemar  was  kept  in  London  doing  nothing  on  a  full  salary, 
until  there  M'as  a  turn  in  the  tide  of  French  politics,  when 
he  was  sent  back  to  his  infamous  work.  One  of  the  strongest 
facts  which  the  history  of  this  sheet  unfolds,  is  that  the  best 
talent  of  Europe  is  always  for  sale,  for  or  against  despotism. 
AlthoDgh  that  paper  changes  as  often  as  the  wind,  it  is  not 
often  obliged  to  change  its  contributors.  With  the  easy  prin- 
ciples of  the  members  of  the  legal  profession,  they  write  for 
pay,  and  whether  their  client  be  in  the  right  or  wrong,  it 
matters  very  little  with  them,  so  long  as  the  remuneration  is 
princely ! 

DAILY  PKESS. 

Few  in  America  are  aw^are  of  the  exceeding  difficulty  of 
establishing  a  daily  joiirnal  in  Great  Britain.  There  are  only 
six  or  eight  in  the  whole  kingdom,  and  all  but  one  or  two  of 
those  are  published  in  London.  It  is  strange,  but  Liverpool 
with  400,000  people,  has  not  a  single  daily  newspaper,  and 
Manchester,  with  a  still  larger  population,  is  in  the  same  con- 
dition. One  reason  for  this  is,  that  London,  by  railway,  is 
brought  very  near  to  all  provincial  towns,  and  the  dailies  of 
the  metropolis  are  read  all  over  the  kingdom.  The  Times, 
Daily  Neivs,  Morm?ig,  Chronicle,  and  Po$t,  are  scattered 
everywhere  over  the  land  in  a  few  hours,  by  the  espress- 
trains,  and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  keep  up  a  daily  paper 
in  a  provincial  town,  with  local  news,  and  all  else  is  brought 
the  quickest  thioDgh  the  metropolitan  journals.  The  duty  on 
paper  is  heavy  in  England,  which,  added  to  the  specific  news- 
tax  of  one  penny,  or  two  cents,  upon  every  sheet,  amounts  to  a 
terrible  burden  ijpon  the  newspapers.  Every  newspaper  in 
the  kingdom  must  pay  into  the  coffers  of  the  government  tw^o 
cents  for  its  every  sheet,  This  makes  the  risk  of  those  who 
attempt  the  publication  of  nev/  journals  exceedingly  great. 
The  well-established  journals  like  the  tax,  for  it  crushes  aK 


208  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

competition.  This  is  the  reason  why  The  Times  opposes  the 
abolition  of  the  stamp-tax  on  papers — if  it  were  swept  away, 
instantly  a  hundred  cheap  dailies  would  spring  into  existence 
over  the  country,  and  it  would  probably  lose  a  share  of  its 
present  immense  patronage.  There  is  a  duty  of  fifty  cents 
upon  every  advertisement  in  any  newspaper  or  periodical  in 
England,  so  that  very  few  people  in  business  advertise  through 
the  periodicals.  Almost  every  conceivable  method  is  resorted 
to  on  account  of  this  tax,  to  advertise  to  the  world  without 
touching  the  papers.  Great  vans  parade  the  streets  with 
prnited  inscriptions  upon  them  ;  men,  encompassed  with 
boards,  upon  which  are  written  flaming  advertisements,  and 
even  dogs  perambulate  the  streets.  Small  bills  are  thrust 
into  your  hands  at  every  corner — so  that  the  tax  almost 
amounts  to  prohibition  of  newspaper  advertising. 

There  has  been  expended  upon  the  Daily  Neivs,  to  make 
it  pay  for  itself,  over  half  a  million  of  dollars,  and  even  now 
it  is  not  considered  excellent  property.  Large  numbers  of 
shares  are  bought  by  men  who  wish  to  keep  up  a  liberal 
daily  paper  in  London,  and  who  purchased  the  stock,  not  so 
much  expecting  good  returns  as  desiring  to  uphold  Liberalism. 

A  few  years  ago,  a  gentleman  of  large  property  in  London, 
attempted  to  establish  a  daily  newspaper.  Everything  was 
done  to  make  it  successful  that  could  be  done  ;  not  a  stone 
was  left  unturned — yet  after  three  months  it  perished,  and 
its  owner  lost  with  it  £30,000  I  He  had  the  num.bers  splen- 
didly bound,  and  wheneve*-  after  that  any  friend  of  his  talked 
of  starting  a  newspaper,  he  led  him  by  the  arm  to  his  book- 
case, and  taking  out  the  volume  said,  "  That  is  my  news- 
paper;  it  lived  three  months  ;  cost  £30,000  !" 

Still  later,  an  attempt  was  made  by  a  powerful  firm  to 
establish  a  liberal  daily  paper,  under  the  name  cf  "  The 
London  Telegraph,"  but  after  a  hard  struggle  of  three  montlis 
duration,  it  died. 


JOURNALISM.  209 

The  Daily  Neiv^  is,  perhaps,  the  next  paper  in  London  in 
importance  to  the  Times  It  is  more  thoroughly  liberal  in 
tone  and  manner  than  the  latter ;  still,  like  all  the  other 
London  dailies,  it  cannot  be  trusted  in  its  foreign  news.  All 
London  newspapers  in  this  respect  are  untrustworthy.  The 
editor-chief  of  the  Daihj  News,  is  a  man  of  fair  abilities  and 
generous  sentiments,  but  does  not  sympathize  heartily  with 
the  democracy  of  Europe.  It  is,  however,  very  far  superior 
to  the  Times  as  a  journal  of  news.  It  never  prevaricates, 
and  the  only  reason  why  it  is  not  wholly  to  be  trusted  in  its 
continental  matter,  arises  from  the  fact,  that  its  sympathies 
are  not  strong  enough  for  republicanism,  and  it  sometimes  re- 
ports things  against  the  character  of  the  republicans,  which 
they  believe  to  be.  true,  but  which  are  not  in  reality.  It 
never,  however,  becomes  the  tool  of  despotism  for  pay. 

The  Morning  Chronicle  is,  and  always  has  been  celebrated 
for  the  peculiar  literary  talent  displayed  in  its  columns. 
Charles  Dickens,  or  "  Boz,"  became  first  known  to  the  world 
through  its  columns,  and  Henry  Mayhew  wrote  in  it  his  cele- 
brated letters  upon  the  English  Poor.  It  is  exceedingly  con 
servative  on  some  questions,  but  possesses  talent,  and  a  fair 
circulation. 

The  Morning  Post  is  the  special  organ  of  the  kid-gloved 
aristocracy  ;  is  full  of  fulsome  adulation  of  nobles,  and  never 
admits  anything  into  its  columns  which  can  possibly  oflend 
the  eye  of  an  aristocrat.  It  possesses  little  ability,  and  gen- 
erally goes  in  England  by  the  name  of  "  Mrs.  Gamp,"  one  of 
Mr.  Dickens'  celebrated  characters  in  fiction. 

The  Mornhig  Advertiser  is  owned  by  the  Licensed  Vict- 
uallers Association,  and  is  taken  in  by  every  victualler  in 
London  and  ti,e  country.  It  therefore  has  a  steady  circula- 
tion ;  and  it  is  generally  favorable  to  freedom. 

The  Globe  is  at  present  the  organ  of  Lord  Palmerston,  and 
is  a  fair  paper,  though  it  has  a  moderate  circulation.     It  re* 

14 


210  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

ceives  official  news  in  advance  of  other  journals,  and  this  fact 
has  aroused  the  ire  of  the  Times,  and  it  takes  every  oppor- 
tunity td  revenge  itself  upon  the  Foreign  Secretary,  Lord 
Paimerston. 

WEEKLY  PRESS. 

Tlie  Examiner  is  at  the  head  of  the  London  weekly  news- 
papers. As  a  literary  and  political  critic  it  has  no  superior 
in  the  world.  Its  wit  and  talent  are  of  the  first  order — its 
sentiments  are  liberal.  It  is  more  than  forty  years  since  it 
was  established,  and  it  has  ever  preserved  a  high  character  as 
a  weekly  journal  of  politics  and  literature.  John  and  Leigh 
Hunt  owned  it  for  many  years  ;  and  while  under  the  editorial 
charge  of  Leigh  Hunt  it  acquired  great  popularity  and  repu- 
tation. Mr.  Hunt  was  admitted  on  all  hands  to  be  the  most 
accomplished  dramatic  critic  of  his  age,  and  made  the  Exafn- 
iner  popular  with  all  drama-loving  people.  While  its  editor, 
he  wrote  a  paragraph  reflecting  somewhat  upon  the  charac- 
ter of  the  Prince  Regent,  and  was  thrown  into  jail.  He  had 
his  room  papered,  and  a  piano  introduced,  and  when  Byron 
and  Moore  visited  him,  was  happy  as  a  lark.  Hazlitt,  and 
Keats,  and  Shelley,  used  to  contribute  literary  articles  to  the 
Examiner  v/hile  under  the  editorship  of  Mr.  Hunt.  It  then 
had  a  circulation  of  between  seven  and  eight  thousand,  and 
paid  well.  After  Hunt's  death  it  passed  into  the  hands  of  tho 
celebrated  Mr.  Foublanque,  under  whose  control  it  has  ever 
since  remained  He  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  writers  of  the 
age.  His  articles  are  sought  after  by  all  classes — Tories  and 
Whigs  Mr.  Foublanque  is  something  of  a  lion  in  literary 
circles  ;  he  is  in  personal  appearance  bad-looking.  He  is  in- 
tellectual, but  his  long,  black  hair,  which  lies  negligently  over 
his  splendid  forehead,  his  cavernous  eyes,  and  carelessness  in 
dress,  make  him  unpopular  as  a  gentleman,  but  the  brilliancy 


JOURNALISM.  211 

of  his  intellect,  and  the  keenness  of  his  wit,  gain  for  him  an 
entrance  into  the  very  best  society. 

Whenever  the  Examiner  gets  into  a  public  discussion, 
however  provoking  an  adversary  may  conduct,  it  always  pre- 
serves its  temper.  It  is  provokingly  cool  on  such  occasions. 
What  would  set  any  one  else  on  fire,  only  provokes  its  wit 
But  if  it  never  is  passionate,  it  is  revengeful — it  devours  an 
enemy,  not  voraciously,  but  slowly  and  delightfully  ! 

John  Forster  is  the  literary  and  critical  editor  of  the  Ex- 
ammer.  For  many  years  he  has  filled  that  post  with  distin- 
guished ability.  He  has  in  the  meantime  written  several 
books,  which  have  gained  for  him  a  good  reputation  as  an 
author.    He  is  generally  j  ust  in  his  criticisms  of  American  works. 

The  Sunday  DUimich  has  the  largest  circulation  of  any 
weekly  paper  in  England — nearly  one  hundred  thousand.  It 
is  devoted  to  politics,  news,  and  general  literature.  It  is  an 
interesting  paper,  though  not  eminent  for  the  ability  displayed 
in  its  editorial  columns. 

The  Mark  Lane  Exjoress  is  a  commercial  paper,  and  has 
special  reference  in  its  articles  to  Mark  Lane  transactions  in 
corn.  John  Wilson,  M.  P.,  is  its  present  editor,  and  although 
from  his  connection  v/ith  Government,  he  is  not  to  be  trusted 
in  political  matters,  yet  the  paper  is  noted  for  its  abilities. 

The  United  Service  Gazette  is  a  military  paper,  wel! 
known  by  military  men  in  America.  For  a  long  time  it  was 
under  the  editorial  control  of  Alaric  de  Watts,  who  is  a  pow- 
erful writer.  We  chanced  to  meet  him  one  evening  at  the 
house  of  a  mutual  friend,  and  thought  we  never  before  had 
seen  so  savage  a  looking  man  in  London.  He  has  a  large 
head,  which  is  covered  with  rough,  black  hair  ;  his  body  is 
athletic,  his  arras  sinewy  and  strong,  and  he  looks  as  if  more 
capable  of  fighting  than  writing.  But  his  articles  are  like  his 
frame,  massive,  and  full  of  strength. 


212  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

The  Literary  Gazette  was  a  few  years  since  a  weekly 
paper  of  considerable  note  in  London.  It  was  published  by 
the  Longmans,  the  wealthy  book-publishers  ;  and  while  it 
was  under  the  editorial  management  of  Mr.  Jerdan,  it  con- 
tributed much  towards  the  fame  of  Robert  Montgomery  and 
Letitia  E.  Landon.  Li  attempting  to  publish  the  work  him- 
self, Mr.  Jerdan  finally  became  a  bankrupt. 

The  Athe^icBimi  has  an  excellent  standing  as  a  literary 
and  critical  journal.  It  was  established  sixteen  years  since, 
by  John  Stirling  and  James  Silk  Buckingham,  and  when  its 
circulation  had  declined  to  four  hundred,  it  was  purchased  by 
the  present  proprietor,  Mr.  Dilke,  whose  business  talents  are 
not  surpassed  by  any  man's  in  London.  He  expended  thou- 
sands in  advertising  and  purchasing  the  best  of  talent  for  his 
journal,  and  was  eminently  successful.  Its  proprietor  was 
one  of  the  commissioners  of  the  Great  Exhibition,  and  was 
offered  the  honor  of  knighthood,  which  he  had  the  manliness 
to  decline.  The  Q,ueen  sent  to  his  wife  a  diamond  bracelet 
in  token  of  his  services. 

The  character  of  Punch  is  well  known  in  America.  It  is 
almost  the  only  successful  journal  of  wit  in  the  world,  and  it 
owes  its  circulation  to  its  eminent  ability  both  in  literary  mat- 
ter and  artistic  illustration.  It  is  a  fine  speculation,  and  well 
rewards  its  enterprising  publishers — Messrs.  Bradbury  and 
Evans.  There  are  several  other  journals,  religious,  political, 
and  news,  but  we  have  mentioned  the  most  important  of  all. 
There  are  weekly  journals  which  evade  the  stamp-duty,  by 
excluding  all  current  news,  and  which  are  published  at  a 
cheap  rate.  Some  of  them  are  the  vehicles  of  the  most  de- 
graded literature  and  morality,  but  not  all. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE   QUEEN   AND   PRINCE  ALBERT. 

The  portraits  of  Glueen  Victoria,  seen  in  this  countiy,  ar? 
generally  correct  and  faithful  likenesses.  She  is  of  medium 
height,  clear  complexion,  and  full  in  the  face.  It  would  be 
supererogatory  for  us  to  say  that  her  subjects  love  her — in- 
deed there  are  thousands  who  have  a  gentle  affection  for  her 
in  America.  She  is  eminently  lovable,  and  certainly  de- 
serves praise  for  filling  her  position  so  well  as  she  does.  She 
is  surrounded  by  gorgeous  temptations,  and  yet  preserves  a 
virtuous  court.  Her  mother,  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  gave  her 
a  most  rigid  early  education,  and  that  she  needed  it,  with  the 
blood  of  the  effeminate  and  besotted  Georges  flowing  in  her 
veins,  none  can  doubt.  She  inherited  a  predisposition  to  in- 
activity, and  a  nervous-lethargic  temperament,  and  her  saga- 
cious mother,  to  counteract  it,  obliged  her  in  her  youth  to 
take  a  plenty  of  exercise  in  the  open  air,  eat  wholesome  food, 
and  sleep  upon  a  hard  mattress.  The  result  is,  that  though 
possessed  of  an  extremely  delicate  nervous  organization,  the 
Q,ueen  enjoys  good  health.  In  disposition,  she  is  said  by 
those  who  know  her,  to  be  mild  and  loving.  When  young, 
she  had  a  firm  will,  and  if  rumor  speaks  truly,  it  is  a  charac- 
teristic of  her  still.  Upon  some  public  occasion,  when  she 
was  a  girl,  she  was  allowed  by  her  mother  to  go  for  a  few 
minutes  to  th3  window  and  gaze  at  the  crowd  of  people  in 


214  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

the  street.  In  a  short  time  the  Duchess  called  her  away,  but 
she  did  not  heed  the  summons.  Again  the  command  was 
given,  and  unheeded,  when  her  mother  asked  : 

"  What  are  you  gazing  at  ?" 

''At  my  jpeojole!''  she  answered,  in  a  tone  of  pride  and 
haughtiness. 

One  morning  while  we  were  in  London,  the  Clueen  and 
Prince  Albert  visited  Madame  Tassaud's  exhibition  of  wax- 
work, and  orders  were  given,  upon  their  entrance,  to  admit 
no  visitors  until  their  departure  ;  but  an  original  specimen 
of  a  Cheshire  farmer,  by  some  unaccountable  means  got  in, 
and  knowing  nothing  of  the  presence  of  royal  visitors,  walked 
leisurely  up  to  the  wax  group  of  the  royal  f;.mily,  before 
which  stood  the  real  Q.ueen  and  Prince  Albert.  After  gaz- 
ing at  the  wax  group  for  awhile,  the  honest  old  farmer  turned 
to  his  neighbors,  whom  he  supposed  to  be  ordinary  visitors, 
and  said  : 

"  Well,  now,  I  doant  think  they  be  so  very  fine-looking 
after  all — do  you  ?" 

At  that  moment  the  proprietor  of  the  exhibition  came  up, 
exclaiming  : 

"  How  came  you  here,  sir  ?  Are  you  aware  that  you  are 
addressing  Her  Majesty  the  Glueen  ?" 

At  the  words,  "  Her  Majesty,"  the  old  man's  hat  flew  off, 
and  his  knees  bent  with  a  quickness  that  would  surprise  an 
unused  republican.  The  E-oyal  couple  were  much  amused, 
and  reassured  the  old  farmer,  who  retired  to  boast,  as  long  as 
he  lives,  of  his  interview  with  Prince  Albert  and  Q,ueen  Vic- 
toria I 

In  economy,  Victoria  is  said  to  be  an  adept,  and  in  hei 
habits  exceedingly  exemplary.  Her  popularity  is  unbounded 
— everywhere  she  goes  she  is  received  with  great  demonstra* 
tions  of  applause. 

Prince  Albert  is  a  handsome  man,  and  is  quite  popular  of 


THE    QUEEN    AND    PRINCE    ALBERT.  215 

late  throughout  England.  His  devotion  to  the  Great  Exhi- 
bition, and  to  several  benevolent  schemes,  have  contributed 
much  towards  his  popularity.  At  heart  he  has  many  sympa- 
thies for  the  working-people. 

We  had  the  good  fortune  last  spring  to  see  Her  Majesty 
and  the  Prince,  as  they  were  on  their  way  in  their  state-car 
riage  to  Parliament,  and  it  was  the  most  gorgeous  spectacle 
of  the  kind  which  we  ever  witnessed. 

The  day  was  a  lovely  one  of  early  spring.  The  sky  was 
blue,  warm,  and  serene,  the  sun  shone  with  splendor,  and  as 
we  were  stationed  in  Green  Park,  the  acres  of  park  around 
us  were  covered  with  bright-green  grass.  As  early  as  twelve 
o'clock,  the  whole  pathway  from  Buckingham  Palace  to  the 
Houses  of  Parliament  was  crowded  by  people  from  all  ranks 
of  society.  At  a  little  before  two  o'clock,  the  Q,ueen  came 
into  the  Park,  preceded  by  bands  of  music,  the  Guards,  and 
splendid  carriages  containing  officers  of  state.  She  was 
drawn  by  six  beautiful  cream-colored  horses,  covered  with 
brilliant  trappings,  and  the  state-carriage  was  truly  magnifi- 
cent. The  top  was  mainly  of  glass,  so  that  the  populace 
could  have  a  fair  view  of  Her  Majesty.  She  was  dressed  in 
excellent  taste  ;  her  gown  was  of  white  brocade  satin,  trimmed 
with  gold,  and  upon  her  head  she  wore  a  splendid  tiara  of  dia- 
monds. She  rose  repeatedly  and  bowed  to  the  people  with 
exquisite  grace.  She  is  not  a  very  beautiful  woman,  but 
there  is  after  all  a  charming  expression  in  her  features,  a 
gentle  beauty  which  wins  all  hearts. 

Prince  Albert  was  dressed  in  his  military  uni'brm,  and 
j*ooked  very  well. 

The  Duchess  of  Sutherland  was  in  the  carriage  with  the 
Glueen,  and  has  for  years  been  connected  with  the  court. 
She  is  quite  old,  but  still  very  beautiful.  For  many  years 
she  was  considered  the  most  beautiful  woman  at  the  English 
court,  but  at  present  we  believe  that  honor  is  generally  con- 


216  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

ceded  to  the  Marchioness  of  Douro.  The  Duchess  is  twenty 
years  her  superior  in  age.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  rode  in  the 
carriage  also  as  Master  of  Horse. 

The  Marquis  of  Westminster  came  sweeping  past  in  his 
family  carriage.  He  has  the  look  of  a  genuine  aristocrat- 
haughty,  cold,  and  yet  majestic. 

We  could  not  help  contrasting  this  royal  pageant  with  the 
simpler  ceremonies  attendant  upon  the  opening  of  our  Con- 
gress. The  President  is  open  to  all,  but  the  Q,ueen  is  hedged 
round  with  grand  ceremonies  and  etiquette,  so  that  but  few 
of  her  people  can  ever  look  at  her,  save  in  the  open  air  on 
state-occasions. 

We  have  been  sorry  to  see  that  certain  American  writers 
persist  in  saying  that  the  Glueen  is  a  woman  of  no  intellect, 
and  partially  insane.  We  know  from  good  authority  that 
such  statements  are  entirely  devoid  of  truth,  and  if  made  in 
England,  would  expose  their  authors  tf  daughter  and  ridicule. 
Her  Majesty  is  not  a  woman  of  extraordinary  intellect,  but 
she  has  good  intellectual  powers,  and  in  some  of  the  Fine 
Arts  is  skilful.  Above  all,  she  is  strictly  moral.  That  she 
occasionally  is  given  to  seasons  of  deep  melancholy,  is  a  well- 
know^n  fact,  and  some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  state  the  cause 
to  be  her  early  love  for  an  English  nobleman,  whom,  accord- 
ing to  the  Constitution,  she  could  not  marry. 

This  story  is  probably  not  true,  though  before  her  marriage 
t  is  well  known  that  she  was  quite  intimate  with  a  certain 
jiord,  who  has  since  banished  himself  from  the  kingdom. 

Her  nervous  temperament  is  frail,  but  to  say  that  she  is 
half-idiotic,  or  half-insane,  is  not  only  untrue,  but  a  cruel 
misrepresentation  of  her  state. 

The  town  residence  of  the  Clueeu  is  Buckingham  Palace, 
and  was  built  by  the  architect  Nash,  under  George  IV.,  and 
it  affords  proofs  of  the  imbecility  of  mind  of  both  king  and 
architect.     It  is  universally  condemned  by  all  foreigners  of 


THE    QUEEN'    AND    FRINCE     ALBERT.  2l7 

taste;  Von  Raiimer  declared  that  he  would  not  accept  d^free 
residence  in  it ; 

St.  James'  Palace  is  the  place  for  parades,  levees,  and 
drawing-rooms,  while  Buckingham  Palace  is  the  domestic 
home  of  the  royal  family.  The  park  from  this  palace  looks 
finely  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  In  the  palace  there  are 
seven  distinguished  apartments — the  Green  Drawing- Room, 
the  Throne  Room,  the  Picture  Gallery,  the  Yellow  Drawing- 
Room,  the  Saloon,  the  Ball-Room,  and  the  State  Dining- 
Room. 

The  Picture  Room  is  at  certain  times  accessible  to  the  pub- 
lic, and  is  well  worth  the  trouble  of  a  visit.  The  paintings 
in  it  are  by  Titian,  Rembrandt,  Claude,  Vandyke,  Laurie, 
Wilkie,  and  other  rare  old  masters.  When  the  Glueen  is 
absent,  at  Osborne  or  Windsor,  by  a  proper  card  of  introduc- 
tion almost  any  one,  especially  a  foreigner,  may  view  the  dis- 
tinguished collection. 

The  Throne  Room  is  probably  the  richest  in  Buckingham 
Palace.  Its  walls  of  plated  glass,  its  polished  marble  pillars 
and  pavement,  the  gorgeous  furniture,  all  of  which  is  tem- 
pered by  the  light  that  is  thrown  over  all  most  artfully,  so  as 
to  elicit  every  species  of  richness,  combine  to  make  a  dazzling 
room.  In  1842  the  Q,ueen  held  a  grand  Fancy  Ball  in  this 
palace,  and  the  court  of  Edward  III.  and  Glueen  Philippa 
was  renewed.  Its  gorgeousness  has  scarcely  ever  been 
equalled,  and  will  probably  never  be  surpassed.  Upon  the 
occasion  Her  Majesty  wore  upon  her  stomacher  alone  three 
hundred  thousand  dollars  worth  of  diamonds. 

St.  James'  Palace  was  built  in  the  fifteenth  century,  but 
since  then  has  undergone  many  sweeping  changes  and  addi- 
tions. It  looks  finer  than  Buckingham  Palace,  but  is  still  in- 
ferior to  the  palaces  of  the  Continent.  Its  drawing-room  is 
the   place  where  the  Q,ueen  holds  all  her  levees,  and  is  p 

splendid  apartment. 
J 


CHAPTER  XII. 

PARLIAMENT. 

HOUSE    OF    LORDS. 

The  British  building  of  the  House  of  Lords  has  one  of  the 
finest  interiors  in  Europe.  We  well  remember  the  impres- 
sion it  made  upon  us  the  first  night  we  took  our  seat  In  its 
Gallery.  The  sight  was  most  gorgeous,  and  for  the  moment 
we  fancied,  ourself.. gazing  at  some  scene  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights."  The  interior  is  spacious,  and  wears  an  air  of  dig- 
nified grandeur ;  the  light  steals  into  it  beautifully  through 
stained  windows  ;  the  throne  in  the  distance  is  of  splendid 
material,  and  the  walls  are  one  mass  of  artistic  beauty.  It  is 
very  difficult  to  gain  access  to  the  building  during  the  session 
of  the  House,  as  no  one  is  admitted  without  a  written  order 
from  a  peer.  We  were  fortunate  enough  to  gain  the  name 
of  the  Earl  of  Jersey  upon  a  bit  of  foolscap,  and  therefore 
walked  boldly  through  scores  of  policemen  and  guardsmen 
into  the  presence  of  this  body  of  hereditary  law-makers.  As 
we  passed  through  the  bands  of  these  lacquey-in-waiting,  we 
could  not  help  contrasting  everything  we  saw  with  corres- 
ponding things  in  America.  There,  all  was  pomp  and  cir- 
cumstance ;  the  House  of  Lords  was  guarded  as  if  from  an 
mfuriated  mob.  In  this  country  a  stranger  enters  the  United 
States  Senate  without  any  writing  of  orders  or  nonsensical 
bustle,  goes  and  comes  when  he  pleases.     In  real,  simple  dig- 


rAR^.7MEXT.  219 

iiity,  the  House  of  Lords  will  not  compare  for  a  moment  with 
the  American  Senate,  and  the  great  reason  is,  that  here  a 
man  must  be  possessed  of  some  sort  of  talent  or  he  cannot 
secure  an  election  to  that  place,  while  in  England  the  peers 
are  horn  to  their  position  as  law-makers.  Of  course  they  are 
as  likely  to  be  men  of  moderate  abilities  as  common  people, 
and  generally  speaking  rather  more  so. 

The  time  we  first  entered  the  House  of  Lords  the  people 
of  Paris  were  in  the  midst  of  Revolution.  When  we  entered 
the  Earl  of  Winchelsea  v»'as  speaking  upon  some  insignific^t.:t 
question,  and  when  he  sat  down  we  noticed  that  the  peers 
present  grew  excessively  noisy.  The  confusion  increased,  and 
soon  we  saw  fresh  newspaper  sheets  in  the  hands  of  several. 
The  news  soon  flew  to  us  in  the  Gallery — the  King  of  the 
French  had  abdicated  his  tJirone  !  Constei-nation  was  pic- 
tured upon  every  face,  and  we  could  not  restrain  our  smiles.  It 
was  a  scene  for  a  painter  ;  the  proud  despots  seemed  for  a  mo- 
ment to  catch  a  sight  of  the  retribution  which  is  in  store  for 
their  wrongful  usurpations.  For,  talk  softly  as  we  will,  the 
system  of  hereditary  rights  in  England  is  one  of  base  injus- 
tice, and  is  only  propped  up  by  the  sword  and  bayonet. 

The  really  talented  men  of  the  House  of  Lords — with  a 
very  few  exceptions — are  plebeian  ;  men  who  have  been 
bribed  over  from  the  ranks  of  the  per-ple  by  the  ofTer  of  titles. 
Here  lies  a  great  secret  in  regard  to  English  Heform.  The 
nobility  know  exceedingly  well  when  and  how  to  bribe. 
Harry  Brougham  becomes  Lord  Brougham  when  his  talents 
have  become  a  terror  to  the  aristocracy,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment he  is  an  aristocrat.  Men  of  talent  cannot  withstand 
the  temptations  of  ofTice  and  titles,  except  in  a  few  instances, 
among  which  Richard  Cobden  is  an  illustrious  instance 
For  he  might  have  taken  high  office  if  he  would,  and  with- 
out doubt  might  have  a  title  for  the  asking,  if  there  had  been 
any  hope  of  winning  him  to  the  pide  of  the  aristocracy. 


220  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

There  are  few  really  great  men  in  the  House  of  Lords 
There  are  Brougham,  the  lawyer ;  Wellington,  the  warrior  ; 
Campbell,  the  jurist-statesman ;  the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne, 
an  enlightened  Whig  ;  the  Earl  of  Carlisle,  formerly  Lord 
Morpeth  ;  Earl  Grey  ;  Lord  Stanley,  recently  by  the  decease 
of  his  father  become  the  Earl  of  Derby  ;  and  perhaps  among 
the  ecclesiastics  the  Bishops  of  Norwich  and  Exeter. 

Lord  Campbell  is  considered  by  some  as  the  rival  of 
Brougham  in  the  Upper  House,  but  while  he  is  in  the  me- 
ridian of  life,  so  far  as  ability  and  aptness  go,  the  other  is  a 
mere  wreck.  There  cannot  be  said  to  be  rivalry,  properly 
speaking,  under  such  conditions.  Both  are  Scotchmen  md 
both  have  carved  out  their  own  fortunes,  with  their  own 
hands.  Lord  Campbell  is  perhaps  the  ablest  jurist  in  the 
kingdom  ;  as  a  statesman  he  ranks  high,  but  not  so  high  as 
some  others  in  Parliament.  He  is  a  fine-looking  man,  with 
many  Scotch  characteristics,  in  countenance  and  actions. 

The  Marquis  of  Lansdowne  is  a  prominent  member  of  the 
Whig  Government,  and  an  influential  peer.  He  has  for 
years  been  distinguished  for  his  hereditary  position  and  intel- 
lectual acquirements.  He  was  once  extremely  good-looking, 
but  is  now  touched  by  age,  limping,  when  we  saw  him,  with 
the  gout.  His  speeches,  though  not  brilliant,  are  yet  replete 
with  good  argument,  and  candor.  His  sympathies  are  as 
much  lor  the  people  as  one  could  expect,  owing  to  his  aristo- 
c  citic  position,  and  there  is  a  visible  difference  between  his 
definition  of  liberty  and  that  of  the  Earl  of  Derby's. 

We  once  saw  the  Bishop  of  Norwich — since  deceased — and 
the  Bishop  of  Exeter  in  the  House  together.  There  was  a 
striking  difference  between  the  two  men.  The  former  was  a 
small  man,  with  bright  eyes,  and  a  pleasa»it,  amiable  man- 
ner, and  he  was  good,  benevolent,  and  liberal.  The  latter 
had  a  narrow,  contracted  look,  and  is  contracted  in  some 
things,  but  possesses  vigorous  talents,  and  a  biting,  cross  satire. 


PARLIAMENT.  221 

Earl  Grey  Is  one  of  the  finest-looking  men  in  the  Rouse. 
His  personal  appearance  is  classical,  his  speeches  are  models 
of  parliamentary  eloquence,  and  his  influence  over  the  peers 
is  justly  great.  There  is  no  other  man  there  whose  personal 
appearance,  taking  everything  into  consideration,  is  so  good. 
When  speaking,  his  figure  appears  to  the  greatest  advantage. 
The  popular  engravings  of  him  are  generally  correct,  and  in 
this  respect  he  is  a  fortunate  man.  There  are  three  men  in 
Parliament  whose  portraits  cannot  fail  to  he  correct,  their 
features  are  so  ludicrously  striking.  They  are  Brougham, 
WelHngton,  and  Russell.  The  first  has  such  a  compressed 
face,  the  second  so  beaked  a  nose,  and  the  last  so  grannyish 
a  face,  that  it  is  impossible  to  make  a  picture  of  either,  and 
leave  out  the  distinguishing  feature. 

Lord  Stanley — now  Earl  of  Derby — is  a  bitter  Tory,  but 
after  all  one  of  the  ablest  men  in  the  House.  His  appearance 
is  good,  though  not  remarkable.  His  speeches  are  character- 
ized by  bitterness  and  prejudiced  reasoning — yet  he  is  a  man 
of  great  talents.  His  hatred  for  Liberalism  or  Democracy  is 
as  vehement  as  his  love  for  the  system  of  Protection  and 
Toryism. 

The  House  sits  in  two  capacities — a  legislative  and  a  judi- 
cial. When  judicial,  it  sits  as  the  highest  court  of  justice  in 
the  kingdom.  On  ordinary  occasions,  the  only  persons  robed 
are  the  Lord  Chancellor,  who  sits  upon  the  Woolsack,  the 
Bishops,  the  Judges,  and  the  Masters  of  Chancery  But 
when  Parliament  is  opened  or  closed  by  the  Q,ueen  in  person, 
the  interior  of  the  House  of  Lords  presents  a  grand  and  bril- 
liant spectacle.  All  the  peers  are  in  their  robes,  and  ladies 
of  the  highest  rank  are  present — the  peeresses  in  tlieir  own 
right,  and  the  wives  and  daughters  of  peers.  Parliament  is 
generally  opened  by  commission,  which  is  a  tame  ceremony, 
but  all  London  is  in  excitement  when  Her  Majesty  opens  it  in 
person.     People  crowd  all  the  avenues  leading  to  the  Houses 


222  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

of  Parliament,  and  when  the  Sovereign  approaches  -.he  is 
saluted  with  cheers  and  hurrahs,  the  waving  of  handkeri^hiefs, 
the  ringing  of  bells,  and  the  roaring  of  cannon.  When  she 
arrives  at  the  House  she   is  first  conducted  to  the  Robino- 

o 

Room.  When  duly  attired.  Prince  Albert  accompanies  her 
to  the  throne,  and  when  she  is  seated,  himself  takes  a  chair- 
of-state  immediately  on  her  left.  As  soon  as  she  is  seated, 
the  dueen  desires  the  Peers  to  be  seated  also,  and  the  "  Usher 
of  the  Black  Rod"  summons  the  Commons.  The  Speaker 
soon  appears  at  the  Bar  of  the  House  with  a  multitude  of 
members  at  his  heels.  The  Lord  Chancellor  presents  the 
speech  to  the  Q,ueen,  and  she  at  once  proceeds  to  read  it 
There  is  a  deal  of  foolish  pomp  in  the  ceremonial,  but  no  one 
can  deny  that  it  is  a  most  brilliant  pageant. 

The  members  of  the  House  of  Lords  are  divided  into  two 
classes — the  Lords  Spiritual  and  the  Lords  Temporal.  The 
former  consist  of  two  Archbishops  and  twenty-four  Bishops, 
from  England,  and  one  Archbishop  and  three  Bishops,  from 
L'eland.  There  was  a  time  when  the  Spiritual  Lords  out- 
numbered the  Temporal,  but  now  the  latter  are  vastly  in  the 
preponderance.  The  Temporal  Lords  consist  of  twenty-eight 
Irish  peers,  elected  for  life,  sixteen  Scotch  peers,  elected  for 
each  term,  and  any  quantity  of  English  peers,  who  sit  by 
right  of  descent,  and  whose  only  qualifications  are  that  they 
be  of  age,  of  the  right  birth,  and  not  totally  imbecile.  They 
are  divided  into  various  ranks,  such  as  Barons,  Viscounts. 
Marquises,  Earls  and  Dukes. 

When  the  House  sits  in  a  judicial  capacity,  it  tries  all  in- 
dividuals who  are  ■  impeached  by  the  House  of  Commons, 
Peers  who  are  indicted,  and  determines  appeals  from  the  de- 
cision of  the  Court  of  Chancery.  When  it  sits  judically  it  is 
open  to  the  public.  Upon  such  occasions  only  the  law^ 
lords — generally — are  present. 


PARLIAMENT.  223 


HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


An  English  politician  frequently  expends  fifty  or  a  hun- 
dred tho.usand  dollars  in  securing  an  election  to  the  House  of 
Commons.  No  man — unless  of  great  popularity — considers  it 
prudent  to  risk  an  election  without  a  heavy  purse.  In  many 
cases  votes  are  bribed  with  gold  ;  but  generally  with  dinners 
and  flattering  personal  attentions.  A  few  thousand  pounds 
are  absolutely  necessary,  for  there  are  committees  who  must 
sit  and  be  paid,  canvassers  for  votes,  and  voters  who  must 
either  be  bribed  directly  with  gold,  or  indirectly  with  wines, 
brandies,  and  riotous  living.  This  renders  it  difficult  for  the 
Liberals  to  become  elected  to  Parliament — the  cost  is  out  of 
the  reach  of  poor  commoners,  and  therefore  the  aristocrats 
step  in  and  win  the  day.  The  members  are  not  paid  for 
their  parliamentary  services,  and  many  reformers  are  too  indi- 
gent to  be  able  to  sit  for  seven  years  in  the  House — the  length 
of  the  Parliamentary  term — without  any  pay.  Thus  the 
House  of  Commons,  which  was  originally  intended  to  be  the 
people's  house,  is  ruled  completely  by  the  aristocracy. 

Perhaps  the  most  noted  man  in  the  Commons  is  Richard 
Cobden,  the  great  Corn-Law  o])poser.  The  triumph  which 
he  achieved  over  the  Corn  Law  was  a  heavy  blow  against 
the  aristocracy,  and  they  felt  it  to  be  such.  He  is  one  of  the 
noblest  of  men,  and  is  very  democratic  in  his  opinions  and 
sympathies.  No  other  man  in  England  is  so  popular  with 
the  masses.  He  is  a  man  of  prepossessing  personal  appear 
ance — with  a  broad  and  thoughtful  brow,  black  hair,  black 
eyes,  and  a  half-solemn,  sincere  look.  And  what  is  a  little 
singular,  his  eloquence  is  alike  fitted  for  the  •  masses  or  for 
Parliament.  He  knows  well  how  to  address  people  or  senate. 
His  eloquence  is  of  the  simplest  cast,  yet  has  the  potent 
quality  of  convincing.     There  is  no  bombast  in  it,  no  flowing 


224  '  WHAl    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

rhetoric,  but  it  satisfies.  No  other  man  could  have  converted 
the  mighty  intellect  of  Peel  to  Anti-Corn  Lawism  save  sim- 
ple, straightforward  Richard  Cobden.  Through  that  mighty 
struggle  of  seven  years,  night  after  night  did  Cobden  stand  up 
in  the  House  and  advocate  his  opinions.  One  after  another 
came  over  to  his  side,  and  at  last  the  great  leader  of  the 
Protectionists,  Peel  himself,  came  and  sat  at  his  feet  as  a 
follower!  A  grander  triumph  the  world  never  saw,  and 
Cobden  might  have  taken  any  office  or  title  if  he  would,  but 
instead  of  that  he  has  gone  still  further  on  in  democratical 
opinions,  and  he  is  therefore  separated  from  the  administration 
by  his  sentiments. 

Joseph  Hume  is  another  veteran  among  the  ranks  of  the 
Liberals  in  the  House.  He  is  self-made,  and  has  for  forty 
years  fought  against  the  aristocracy.  John  Bright,  the  (Qua- 
ker member,  is  an  enthusiastic  speaker,  and  was  the  compeer 
of  Cobden  through  the  great  Corn  Law  struggle.  Fox  is  a 
chaste  orator,  and  George  Thompson  has  eminent  abilities  as 
a  speaker — and  both  are  Liberals. 

Lord  George  Bentinck  was  for  a  few  years  previous  to  his 
death  the  leader  of  the  Protectionist  party  iu  the  House  of 
Commons.  His  speeches  were  characterized  by  nervous  en- 
ergy, and  he  was  an  ingenious  arrayer  of  facts,  which  is  often 
the  most  convincing  kind  of  eloquence.  Aside  from  his  pecu- 
liar sympathies  for  the  Corn  Laws,  he  was  a  reasonable  man, 
and  a  good  leader  of  his  party.  He  was  deficient  in  morals, 
being  a  great  gambler.  In  one  season  he  netted  by  his  gam- 
bling between  three  and  four  hundred  thousand  dollars.  It 
was  a  singular  sight  to  see  the  leader  of  the  Tories  of  Eng- 
land betting  at  the  races  like  any  common  and  debauche'' 
gambler.  England,  however,  had  her  "  gambler  statesmen 
before  Bentinck  came  upon  the  stage.  In  appearance  he  was 
tall   and   slim — dressed   fashionably,  but  not   foppishly.     His 


•PARLIAMENT.  225 

forehead  was  broad  and  showy,  and  his  general  appearance 
was  intelligent  and  pleasing. 

Since  Lord  Bentinck's  death,  Benjarniu  D'Israeli  has  been 
the  acknowledged  leader  of  the  Tories  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, though  his  advocacy  of  Jewish  liberty  came  near  cost- 
ing him  his  place.  If  the  party  had  a  single  talented  man  in 
the  House  beside  him,  they  would  dispense  with  his  services, 
for  he  is  ill-fitted  to  be  the  leader  of  a  great  party.  His  per- 
sonal qualities  are  not  such  as  to  inspire  respect.  His  natural 
position  is  one  from  which  he  can  attack  whom  he  pleases, 
for  he  is  only  brilliant  when  destructive.  As  a  builder  he  is 
good  for  nothing  ;  he  has  no  clear-sighted  philanthropy  ;  but 
can  wield  savage,  though  polished  sarcasm  and  wit,  with  ter- 
rible effect.  He  often  expends  his  wit  upon  the  defenders  of 
Truth,  but  in  such  cases  it  falls  harmless  to  the  ground  ;  but 
Dccasionally  he  points  his  guns  where  he  should  point  them,* 
and  then,  when  truth  and  wit  unite,  his  success  is  magnifi- 
cent. He  dissects  an  enemy  with  the  ferocity  of  a  tiger,  but 
does  it  politely.  His  wit  is  keen  and  deep,  but  his  invective 
is  irritating  rather  than  grandly  impetuous.  He"  has  not 
depth  enough  to  pursue  a  man  as  Daniel  O'Connell  did  in 
that  House.  He  cannot  storm  along  with  Daniel's  thunder, 
making  the  very  skie.s  grow  black  and  tempestuous  about  his 
victim's  head  ;  but  he  stings  like  a  venomous  insect,  and  the 
result  is,  that  his  subject  becomes  vexed,  maddens  and  hates, 
but  is  never  afraid,  and  always  despises  his  enemy.  He  has 
little  popularity,  because  he  lacks  heart.  As  a  brilliant 
speaker  and  writer — for  he  is  far-famed  as  an  author — he 
commands  much  attention,  but  little  love  or  esteem.  He  has 
a  Jewish  look,  and  is  of  Jewish  descent.  His  hair  is  dark  ; 
eyes  intense,  wickedly  black,  narrow  yet  high  forehead,  slim 
body,  and  a  medium  height.  He  has  a  foppish  and  jaunty 
appearance,  and  in  his  dress  causes  much  amusement,  for  he 
is  the  dandy-statesman  of  the  House. 
'*  15 


226  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Mr.  Goulbourn  is  one  of  the  members  from  Oxford — the 
stronghold  of  Toryism.  He  is  not  talented  as  a  speaker,  but 
in  the  opinion  of  some  is  a  man  of  sound  judgment  and  dis- 
criminatory powers. 

Sir  Harry  Tnglis  is  quite  distinguished  for  his  advocacy  of 
blind  Conservatism  ;  Sir  James  Graham  was  one  of  Peel's 
Generals,  and  is  a  moderate  Conservative  of  great  talents. 

Lord  John  Russell,  the  Whig  Premier,  is  by  virtue  of  his 
position,  one  of  the  most  prominent  men  of  the  House.  In 
personal  appearance  he  is  quite  ordinary,  and  indeed  inferior. 
He  is  diminutive  in  size,  has  a  grannyish  face,  the  features 
being  dry,  small  and  wrinkled,  his  eyes  are  intelligent,  his 
forehead  small,  and  his  manners  rather  pompous.  This  is  not 
afiected — he  is  of  such  inferior  size,  has  such  a  doleful  face 
and  general  appearance,  that  when  he  rises  as  Prime  Minis- 
ter with  great  words  upon  his  lips,  there  is  a  look  of  pompos- 
ity about  the  man.  One  smiles  involuntarily  to  think  of  a 
great  statesman  on  so  short  a  pair  of  legs  I  And  besides, 
Punch  has  so  often  presented  to  the  public  that  same  pecu- 
liar face  attached  to  so  many  different  kinds  of  bodies,  that 
the  gazer  cannot  forget  it.  The  Premier  is  a  man  of  genius, 
but  no  statesman.  He  lacks  depth,  breadth,  and  statesman- 
like fore-knowledge.  There  is  little  dignity  in  his  character, 
and  ^he  nation  remembers  that  once  he  was,  while  out  of 
office,  a  flaming  reformer,  but  now  a  craven  aristocrat.  In 
the  days  of  the  Heforra  Bill  he  talked  loudly  of  the  people's 
rights,  but  long  since  has  hushed  that  cry..  He  dresses  with 
aristocratic  simplicity,  is  a  gentleman,  pure  in  private  life, 
and  obliging  in  disposition.  We  shall  not  be  at  all  surprised 
to  see  Lord  John  Russell  once  again  an  agitator.  If  circum- 
stances deprive  him  of  office,  he  will  lead  the  people  again, 
and  ride  triumphantly  into  power — perhpps  again  to  deceive 
thern. 


PARLIAMENT.  227 

We  saw  Sir  Robert  Peel  in  the  House  of  Commons  during 
our  first  year  in  the  metropolis,  and  we  always  thought  him 
the  ablest  statesman  there.  The  very  face  and  figure  of  the 
man  proclaimed  him  to  be  no  ordinary  character.  His  fore- 
head was  large,  his  countenance  always  in  grand  repose,  and 
his  person  in  keeping  Vvdth  the  colossal  proportions  of  his  in- 
tellect. He  was  always  well  dressed,  not  splendidly,  but  with 
a  plain  richness  which  became  him  well.  Whenever  he  rose 
to  speak,  the  House  gave  all  attention.  No  other  man  in  the 
House  inspired  such  universal  respect.  Men  might  differ 
from  him,  but  they  stood  in  awe  of  his  stern  morality  and 
large  intellect.  His  sudden  conversion  to  Free  Trade  his 
quondam  friends  can  never  forgive,  but  it  was  a  sublime 
proof  of  his  love  for  truth  and  candor.  The  cry  of  "  traitor  I" 
did  not  disturb  him,  for  his  conscience  told  him  he  had  acted 
nobly  and  well.  He  had  mortified  himself,  for  the  sake  of 
the  toiling  millions  of  England  I  And  he  lived  long  enough 
to  see  the  discomfiture  of  his  enemies,  and  now  that  he  is 
dead,  the  man  who  would  dare  to  traduce  him  would  be 
hooted  out  of  England.  Knowing  the  temper  of  the  nation, 
in  this  respect,  the  Tories  never  mention  his  desertion,  now 
they  well  know  that  the  cause  of  it  was  a  powerful  conviction 
in  the  mind  of  Peel,  that  to  save  the  English  nation,  the  Corn 
Laws  mus;  be  repealed. 


CHAPTER  XIIL 

A    TRIP    TO    HAMPTON    COURT. 

One  pleasant  day,  as  the  Spring  was  just  dying  away  into 
Summer,  with  a  few  friends,  in  a  private,  open  carriage,  we 
made  a  delightful  excursion  to  Hampton  Court.  In  a  short 
time  we  had  left  Piccadilly,  the  Cluhs,  and  Hyde  Park  out  of 
sight,  were  off  the  stony  pavements  ;  and  fields  of  green,  and 
country-houses  with  close-shaven  lawns,  and  groves,  were 
scattered  profusely  on  either  hand.  The  day  was  clear,  soft, 
and  lovely,  and  the  little  villages  through  which  we  passed 
were  nestling  in  among  the  vines  and  shrubbery  like  bird's 
nests.  We  stopped  our  carriage  on  Wimbledon  Common  to 
have  a  quiet  view  of  the  place,  and  the  surrounding  scenery 
• — for  only  a  few  moments,  and  then  were  riding  swiftly 
onward.  In  a  short  time  we  arrived  at  the  pretty  little 
village  of  Kingston  on  the  Thames,  about  fifteen  miles  from 
London.  We  drove  to  a  hotel,  had  our  panting  horses  well 
takencare  of,  and  after  taking  a  luncheon,  ordered  a  couple 
of  boats  in  which  we  intended  to  pull  up  to  Hampton  Court, 
which  was  two  or  three  miles  distant. 

Our  boats  were  light  as  bark  canoes,  so  much  so  that  a 
single  unlucky  movement  threatened  a  plunge  into  the  water 
to  us  all.  Our  office  was  that  of  helmsman,  and  as  soon  as 
we  were  fairly  upon  the  bosom  of  the  stream,  we  saw  the 
extreme  loveliness  of  the  scenery  around  us.  On  our  right, 
lay  the  celebrated  Richmond  Park,  its  dense  forests  growing 


A    TRIP    TO    HAMPTON    COURT.  229 

almost  down  to  the  brink  of  the  river.  On  the  left  hand, 
(going  towards  ?Iampton  Court)  there  were  beautiful  resi- 
dences, the  gardens  of  which  ran  down  to  the  edge  of  the 
river.  Some  of  these  were  the  most  beautiful  and  exquisitely 
lovely  spots  we  ever  saw,  and  fairly  made  our  heart  sick  of 
life  in  town.  Out  on  one  of  the  lawns  a  group  of  rosy-cheeked 
children  were  playing,  while  beside  them  in  quiet  oonterapla- 
tion,  stood  two  young  women,  fair  as  lilies.  There  were  hills 
in  the  dim  distance  covered  over  with  the  tint  of  the  sky, 
while  those  nearer,  were  green  and  ridged  with  hawthorn 
hedges.  Here  and  there  were  groves  of  trees,  or  flocks  of 
snow-white  sheep  ;  the  merry  birds  were  singing  in  every 
bough,  and  English  birds  can  "  make  melody"  of  marvellous 
sweetness  on  summer  mornings  I  Occasionally  We  rested  our 
oars  and  floated  silently  backward  on  the  stream  while  we 
gazed  at  all  the  sweet  beauty  around  us,  as  if  charmed  by  the 
scenery  as  a  practical  mesmerist  charms  his  patient.  But 
the  tide  and  stream  were  so  strong  against  us,  that  we  could 
not  afford  to  stop  rowing  long  at  a  time,  and  we  felt  the  force 
of  that  line  in  the  old  song  which  says  : 

"  Row  !  brothers,  row  ! — the  stream  runs  fast '" 

As  we  glided  on  against  the  stream  a  song  was  struck  up  by 
our  fellow  boatmen,  who  were  some  distance  in  the  rear,  the 
notes  of  which  echoed  sweetly  in  the  groves,  on  the  banks  of 
the  river.  The  children,  as  we  passed,  came  down  to  look  at 
us  and  hear  the  song,  and  the  birds  sung  louder  than  ever,  as 
if  to  prove  their  undoubted  right  to  the  realm  of  song. 

And  now  we  were  almost  in  sight  of  Bushy  Park,  which 
belongs  to  the  Hampton  Court  Palace.  A  turn  in  the  course 
of  the  river  soon  brought  the  Palace  in  full  view,  and  a  finer 
sight  we  never  saw.  The  Park  gates  were  just  opposite  us, 
and  we  could  see  a  fine  avenue  of  chestnut  and  lime  trees 


230  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

fountains  and  statues,  t  hile  back  of  them  in  magnificent 
splendor  rose  the  palace  which  Cardinal  Wolsey  built  for 
himself,  but  when  questioned  by  the  king,  Henry  YIIL,  why 
he  had  built  a  palace  more  sumptuous  than  any  in  the  king- 
dom, he  gracefully  and  at  once  gave  it  to  his  majesty. 

Running  our  boats  ashore,  we  put  them  into  the  care  of  a 
boy,  and  arm-in-arm  passed  through  the  little  village  of 
Hampton,  and  entered  the  gates  which  lead  up  to  the  magnifi- 
cent Palace. 

Hampton  Court  Palace  stands  on  the  northern  bank  of  the 
river  Thames,  some  fifteen  miles  west  of  London.  The  cele- 
brated Cardinal  Wolsey,  who  rose  from  a  butcher's  boy  to  be 
the  greatest  character  in  Henry  YHL's  reign,  at  the  summit 
of  his  power  wished  to  build  a  magnificent  palace  for  bia 
personal  use,  and  wished  to  build  it  on  the  healthiest  spot 
within  a  few  miles  of  London,  Physicians  of  eminence 
selected  Hampton,  where  the  palace  was  erected.  It  so  far 
surpassed  even  the  Royal  palaces,  that  the  king  questioned 
Wolsey  as  to  the  matter,  when  he  at  once  gave  it  to  his 
master,  who  in  return  presented  him  with  the  manor  of 
Richmond,  a  favorite  residence  of  Henry  YH. 

John  Skelton,  a  poet  of  Wolsey's  time,  wrote  the  following 
lines,  which  shov/  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  people  at  the 
Cardinal's  isiagnificence  : 

"  The  Eingyes  Court 
Should  have  the  excellence  I 
But  Hampton  Court 
Hath  the  pre-eminence ; 
And  Yorkes  place 
With  my  Lordes  grace, 
To  whose  magnificence 
Is  all  the  confluence 
State  and  applications 
Embassies  of  all  nations  V 


A    TRIP    TO    HAMPTON    COURT.  231 

But  although  Cardinal  Wolsey  for  a  long  time  was  the 
favorite  of  his  monarch,  and  lived  himself  like  a  king,  yet, 
finally,  he  iell.  He  v/as  impeached,  arrested  for  treason,  and 
died,  it  is  supposed,  by  poison  administered  by  his  own  hands. 
Before  he  died,  he  lamented  that  he  had  not  served  his  God 
as  faithfully  as  he  had  his  kitig.  It  is  supposed  that  Wolsey 
himself  furnished  the  designs  for  Hampton  Palace,  which  will 
forever  stand  to  commemorate  his  greatness. 

Henry  VIII.  held  several  magnificent  banquets  in  the 
Palace — one  of  them  in  particular,  given  to  the  French 
Ambassadors,  was  a  most  gorgeous  pageant.  Henry,  who 
will  ever  be  remembered  by  his  cruelties,  often  lived  here,  and 
brought  every  one  of  his  six  wdves  (if  we  mistake  not)  here 
for  a  short  time. 

Edward  YI.  was  born  in  Hampton  Palace,  in  1537,  and  his 
mother,  poor  Jane  Seymour,  only  survii^ed  his  birth  a  few 
days.  Henry  loved  her  better  than  any  of  his  other  wiveg. 
She  it  was  whom  he  married  the  day  after  his  former  wife, 
A.nne  Boleyn,  was  beheaded. 

(iueen  Mary  and  Philip  of  Spain,  spent  their  honeymoon 
in  1558,  at  this  place.  Q,ueen  Elizabeth  occasionally  held 
scenes  of  festivity  in  it,  and  James  I.  held  the  celebrated  con- 
ference between  the  Presbyterians  and  the  members  of  the 
established  church,  in  one  of  the  lofty  rooms  of  the  Palace, 
himself  acting  as  moderator.  The  result  was  the  present 
translation  of  the  Bible. 

The  wife  of  James  I.,  Q,ueen  Anne,  died  here  in  1618. 
Charles  I.  spent  some  time  at  Hampton  Palace  in  1625,  to 
et  out  of  the  way  of  the  plague,  which  was  raging  fearfully 
n  London — and  here  too,  the  poor  and  wretched  king  was 
kept  in  a  state  of  gorgeous  imprisonment  by  Cromwell's 
soldiers,  and  from  here  went  to  the  scaffold. 

Elizabeth  the  daughter  of  Cromwell  was  married  here  on 
the    iSth  of  November,    1657,   and   the  following  year  his 


232  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDOX. 

favorite  daughter,  Mrs.  Claypole,died  in  it.  George  II  is  the 
last  king  who  has  resided  in  it. 

The  Palace  covers  eight  acres  of  ground.  Over  the  arch- 
way of  the  gates,  are  the  arms  and  motto  of  Cardinal  Wolsey 
— "  God  is  my  help,"  and  on  the  small  towers  are  busts  of 
the  Roman  Emperors.  They  were  sent  from  Rome  by  Popo 
Leo  X.  to  Wolsey,  purposely  to  decorate  his  Grand  Palace,  and 
have  recently  been  repaiivd. 

This  was  the  grand  old  Palace  we  were  entering,  and  with 
all  its  rich  historical  associations  in  our  memory,  the  readei 
will  not  wonder  if  we  looked  at  its  antiquated  walls  as  they 
rested  peacefully  in  the  sunshine  with  something  of  reverence 
in  our  hearts  It  was  the  Palace  of  Kings  and  (Queens 
famous  in  the  centuries  which  have  fled  away — it  was  the 
home  and  prison  of  Charles  I. — and  in  it  Cromwell,  the  Pro- 
tector of  the  Commonwealth,  closed  in  death  the  eyes  of  his 
favorite  child  ! 

We  entered  by  the  "  King's  Grand  Staircase,"  which  is 
crowded  with  allegories  and  devices  painted  by  Yerrio,  into 
what  is  called  the  "  Guard  Chamber,"  a  splendid  apartment, 
sixty  feet  long  by  forty  wide,  and  thirty  in  height.  Here 
there  was  a  grand  display  of  armory — enough,  it  is  said,  to 
^uUy  equip  a  thousand  men.  There  are  also  several  pictures, 
none  of  which  attracted  our  special  attention,  save  a  portrait 
of  Admiral  Beubon,  of  whom  the  British  sailors  sing  so  lustily. 

We  next  entered  the  "  King's  First  Presence  Chamber," 
and  found  a  large  collection  of  paintings.  A  portrait  of  the 
Duchess  of  St.  Albans  struck  us — she  was  the  child  of  poor 
but  beautiful  Nell  Gwynne  and  Charles  II.  There  was  also 
another  picture  by  Holbein,  entitled  "  An  old  woman  blow- 
ing charcoal,"  which  was  capital.  In  the  second  "  Presence 
Chamber,"  there  are  among  others  two  or  three  beautiful 
paintmgs  by  the  old  master,  Titian,  and  in  the  "  Audience 
Chamber"  there  are  some  excellent  scripture  pieces  by  old 


A.    TRIP    TO    HAMPTOX    COURT.  233 

masters.  There  is  also,  and  we  gazed  long  at  it,  a  portrait 
by  Titian  of  Ignatius  Loyola,  the  founder  of  the  order  of  Jes- 
uits. He  was  a  fine-looking  man,  if  the  portrait  be  correct, 
and  it  must  be,  for  it  is  by  Titian.  However,  Loyola  was 
not  the  founder  of  all  the  dangerous  and  fearful  maxims 
whch  have  since  been  adopted  by  the  Jesuits.  Venus  and 
CujAd,  by  Titian,  is  also  a  beautiful  painting  in  the  same  room 

In  the  "  King's  Drawing  Room"  there  is  a  powerful  piece 
by  Poussiu,  entitled  "  Christ's  Agony  in  the  Garden."  In 
**  King  William's  Bed  Hoom"  is  the  identical  state-bed 
used  by  Ciueen  Charlotte.  The  furniture  is  all  embroidery 
of  the  most  beautiful  description.  The  ceiling  is  painted  by 
Verrio.  At  the  head  of  the  bed  there  stands  a  celebrated 
clock,  which  goes  a  year  without  winding  up.  There  are 
several  paintings  hung  up  on  the  walls — one  of  Catherine, 
wife  of  the  licentious  Charles  II.  She,  it  is  said,  was  the 
very  pattern  of  meekness  and  piety,  and  though  at  first 
shocked  at  the  conduct  of  her  royal  husband,  yet  never  ceased 
to  love  him.  She  was  once  so  ill  as  to  be  given  over  by  her 
physicians,  when  her  husband  wept  at  her  bedside,  begging 
her  to  live  for  his  sake,  little  supposing  that  she  would  take 
him  at  his  word.  But  his  words  acted  like  magic  upon  the 
dying  Clueen,  for  she  suddenly  revived,  and  finally  outlived 
the  king  by  twenty  years. 

We  noticed  in  this  room  a  portrait  of  the  Duchess  of  Ports- 
mouth, one  of  Charles  II. 's  favorite  mistresses.  Her  beauty 
was  of  the  most  delicate  cast.  She  was  purposely  sent  over 
to  England  by  the  French  King  to  entrap  the  English  mon- 
arch, and  bind  him  to  the  French  interest,  and  the  scheme 
was  successful.  We  saw  also  another  of  Charles'  mistresses 
—the  Duchess  of  Cleveland,  of  whom  Bishop  Burnet  said  : 

She  was  a  woman  of  great  beauty  but  enormously  wicked, 
ravenous,  foolish^  and  imperious." 

"  Her  Majesty's  Gallery"  is  a  large,  fine  apartment,  and  in 


234  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

it  there  are  many  paintings  which  to  us  were  full  of  interest. 
There  were  a  dozen  different  paintings  of  Q,ueen  Elizabeth 
and  never  before  were  we  so  impressed  with  the  haggish  hid- 
eousness  of  her  features. 

One  painting  represented  her  when  a  child,  and  even  then 
Ehe  w^as  devoid  of  beauty.      Horace  Walpole  says  : 

"  A  pale,  Roman  nose,  a  head  of  hair  loaded  with  crowns 
and  powdered  with  diamonds,  a  vast  ruff,  a  vaster  fardingale, 
and  a  bushel  of  pearls  are  the  features  by  which  everybody 
knows  at  once  the  pictures  of  Glueen  Elizabeth." 

One  picture  represents  her  as  an  old  v/oman,  and  of  all  the 
horrible  sights  we  ever  have  seen,  that  surpassed  all.  Cru- 
elty, passion,  and  imperiousness  are  written  in  all  her  fea- 
tures. In  one  picture  she  is  drawn  in  a  quaint  dress,  in  a 
forest,  a  stag  behind  her,  and  on  a  tree  are  some  Latin  mot- 
toes. On  a  scroll  at  the  bottom  of  the  painting,  are  some 
verses,  which  some  suppose  to  have  been  written  by  Spenser, 
but  more  generally  it  is  thought  they  were  written  by  dueen 
Elizabeth,  who  it  is  w^ell  known,  pined  away  after  she  had 
consigned  Essex  (whom  she  loved)  to  the  scaffold.  They  are 
so  plaintive  that  we  will  copy  them  here,  exactly  as  they  are 
written  on  the  scroll  : 

'•  The  res  ties  swallow  fits  ray  restles  mind, 
In  still  revivinge,  still  reneninge  wrongs  : 
Her  just  complaint  of  cruelty  unkinde 
Are  all  the  mnsique  that  my  life  prolonges, 
With  pensive  thought  my  weeping  stagg  I  crowne 
Whose  melancholy  teares  my  cares  expresse  ; 
His  teares  in  sylence,  and  my  sighes  unknowne, 
Are  all  the  pliysicke  that  my  harmes  redresse. 
My  only  hope  was  in  this  goodly  tree, 
Which  I  did  plant  in  love,  bring  up  in  care  ; 
But  all  in  vaine,  for  now  to  late  I  see 
The  shales  be  mine,  the  kernels  others  are. 
My  musique  may  be  plaintes.  my  phisique  teares. 
If  this  be  all  the  fruite  my  love-tree  beares." 


A    TRIP    TO    HAMPTON    COURT.  235 

Not  one  of  all  the  portraits  of  dueen  Elizabeth  gives  to 
her  any  beauty.  There  is  a  look  of  repulsive  intellect  in  some 
or  all  of  them,  but  in  none  is  there  any  softness,  or  womanly 
beauty.  How  Leicester  or  Essex  could  ever  have  'pretended 
to  have  an  affection  for  such  a  being,  we  cannot  conceive. 
No  one  denies  her  great  intellectual  superiority  over  the 
women  of  her  time,  but  she  was  also  cruel  as  death,  and  with- 
out much  personal  morality,  however  much  the  old  Conserva- 
tives of  England  may  cry  about  the  golden  age  of  "  good 
Q,ueen  Bess  !" 

In  the  same  apartment  there  is  a  fine  portrait  of  Prince 
Rupert, 

But  we  wall  hurry  on  to  the  "  Closet,"  which  contains  the 
cartoons  of  Eaphael.  They  are  so  called  because  they  are 
painted  on  sheets  of  paper.  They  were  bought  for  Charles  L 
by  Rubens  the  painter,  and  are  the  most  distinguished  pieces 
in  the  Palace.  It  seemed  strange  to  stand  before  the  mighty 
creations  of  Raphael's  genius,  which  were  executed  in  1520, 
only  a  few  years  after  Columbus  discovered  the  New  World. 
The  first  of  the  series  is  entitled  "  The  Death  of  Ananias/' 
and  no  one  can  conceive  how  vividly  all  the  characters  stand 
forth  upon  the  paper,  who  has  not  Mnth  his  own  eyes  gazed 
at  them.  You  can  see  the  man  Ananias,  as  if  the  life  were 
not  completely  gone  from  his  body  ;  the  horror  of  those  around 
him,  as  if  it  all  was  reality.  "  Peter  and  John  at  the  Beau- 
tiful Gate"  is  another  exquisite  thing,  and  which  intoxicates 
the  gazer  like  the  odor  of  June  mornings.  The  power  of  such 
paintings  over  the  human  soul  is  wonderful,  and  cannot  be 
otherwise  than  beneficial. 

But  we  cannot  record  our  admiration  of  all  the  paintings — 
we  visited  room  after  room,  and  at  last  emerged  into  the 
Great  Hall,  which  was  designed  by  Cardinal  Wolsey.  In 
the  days  of  Glueen  Elizabeth  this  same  Hall  was  used  for 
dramatic  performances,  and  there  is  a  tradition  that  some  of 


236  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Shakspeare's  best  plays  were  first  performed  here.  In  1718, 
'  Henry  YIIL,  or  the  Fall  of  Wolsey,"  was  represented  in 
this  Hall,  which  was  once  the  scene  of  his  greatest  splendor. 
The  walls  are  hung  with  beautiful  arras  tapestry  with  ara- 
besque borders.  The  windows  are  exquisitely  stained  and 
traced. 

And  now  we  walked  into  the  ancient  and  lovely  gardens 
which  surround  the  Palace.  They  were  full  of  verdure  and 
bloom,  of  fountains  and  statues,  and  sweet-smelling  flowers. 
In  one  part  of  it  we  saw  a  grape-vine  which  is  110  feet  long, 
and  some  distance  from  the  ground  it  is  30  inches  in  circum- 
ference. Last  year  it  bore  near  three  thousand  bunches  of 
black  Hamburgh  grapes. 

There  are  a  hundred  beautiful  avenues,  shadowy  with  lin- 
den or  lime  trees,  whose  branches  were  graceful  and  refresh- 
ing. In  one  part  of  the  Gardens  there  is  a  maze  or  labyrinth, 
which  was  formed  during  King  William's  reign.  The  paths 
are  separated  from  each  other  by  high  hedges,  and  if  you  are 
tempted  to  enter  the  dangerous  place,  it  is  doubtful  whether 
without  help  you  can  find  your  way  out  again. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  regret  that  we  returned  from  the 
Palace — perhaps  never  to  enter  it  again.  But  it  was  now 
time  to  take  to  our  boats,  and  upon  the  tide  and  stream  w« 
swiftly  floated  down  to  Kingston,  where  we  partook  of  an  ex 
cellent  dinner,  and  rode  home  in  a  moonlight  evening  tha* 
would  have  made  a  poet  sing  I 

And  we  were  sick,  sick  of  the  town.  Give  to  us  the  open, 
breathing,  healthy  country,  in  preference  to  the  noise  and 
confusion  of  the  town.  How  strange  that  people  will  flock  ' 
to  the  cities  when  all  heaven  lies  without  !  Peace  and  Beau- 
ty and  holy  Gluiet  are  not  to  be  had  in  town  ;  but  in  the 
country  they  are  free,  "  without  money  and  without  price." 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

REMINISCENCES   OF   THE   PAST 
bunyan's  grave. 

There  are  many  spots  in  London  sacred  to  the  memory  of 
the  departed  great.  Some  of  them  are  out  of  the  way,  in 
quiet  nooks,  or  corners  of  old  churchyards,  where  few  persons 
ever  go,  and  others  are  in  renowned  places,  where  the  eyes 
of  the  world  are  sure  to  see  them. 

In  Westminster  Abbey  fashion  and  nobility  deign  to  gaze 
apon  the  tombs  of  philosophers,  and  poets,  and  statesmen. 
But  there  are  places  to  which  few  wander,  but  yet  which 
mark  the  burial-places  of  men  of  genius,  of  goodness  and 
greatness.  There  are  graves  mossed  over  by  gray  years, 
without  even  a  legible  tombstone,  which  are  sadly  interesting 
to  the  lover  of  truth  and  religion,  and  poetry.  Everybody 
can  tell  where  Horace  Walpole  was  buried  ;  but  who  can  go 
and  stand  over  Chatterton's  grave  ?  He  was  buried  among 
paupers — while  the  aristocratic  butterfly  who  saw  him  perish 
without  remorse,  had  a  tomb  like  a  king. 

There  is  to  us  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  finding  out  the  haivnta 
of  the  poets  of  ages  ago,  and  of  good  men,  and  resting  upon 
the  grass  which  waves  gracefully  over  their  graves.  And  we 
are  content  to  take  up  with  a  hero  whom  the  world  may  not 
have  christened  as  the  greatest.     There  are  smaller  stars  in 


238  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

th«  firmament,  which,  though  not  so  brilliant,  are  as  beautiful 
as  the  largest.  Ther3  were  men  living  a  century  or  two  cen- 
turies ago,  not  perhaps  the  greatest  of  men,  but  who  were 
great  and  good  enough  to  deserve  immortality  at  the  handa 
of  the  world. 

In  passing  up  a  street  called  "  City  Road,"  we  had  oftep 
noticed  a  burial-yard  which  juts  closely  upon  the  street,  so 
that  we  lingered  sometimes  to  read  the  inscriptions  on  the 
tombstones.  We  were  first  attracted  toward  it  by  seeing  a 
granite  column  in  memory  of  "  Thomas  Hardy,"  who,  a  cen- 
tury ago  (so  says  the  granite  column),  was  a  great  radical, 
and  befriended  the  cause  of  the  people  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  was  thrown  into  the  Tower  on  a  charge  of  high-treason, 
where  he  lay  separated  from  his  family  for  six  months,  when 
he  had  his  trial,  which  resulted  in  his  triumphant  acquittal 
by  an  honest  English  jury. 

Just  opposite  this  yard  there  is  another,  which  contains  the 
dust  of  Wesley,  the  founder  of  Wesleyan  Methodism.  No 
one  who  has  ever  read  the  life  of  that  truly  devoted  man 
can  stand  over  his  grave  without  feeling  and  thoughtfulness. 
There  is  something  in  every  earnest  and  holy  man's  life, 
though  only  seen  through  biography,  Avhich  commands  the 
respect  of  even  the  worldling,  and  no  man,  however  cold, 
ever  bent  over  Wesley's  modest  tomb  without  feeling  in  his 
inmost  heart  a  sentiment  of  veneration  for  so  disinterested 
and  truly  piuus  a  character. 

The  opposite  yard  is  called  "  Bunhill  Fields,"  and  was 
opened,  if  we  recollect  aright,  just  after  the  Great  Plague 
which  raged  so  fearfully  in  London. 

One  Sunday  afternoon,  seeing  for  the  first  time  in  all  our 
walks  past  it,  the  yard-gate  open,  we  dropped  into  "  Bunhill 
Fields."  A  friend  was  with  us,  and  we  turned  in  at  ^he 
little  gate  to  decipher  the  quaint  inscriptions  upon  the  time- 
worn  stones. 


REMINISCEVCES    OF    THE    PAST.  239 

The  yard  is  of  considerable  extent,  and  is  very  thickly 
Btrewn  with  stones.  Almost  all  of  them,  too,  we  noticed, 
were  old,  some  of  them  extremely  old.  Upon  some  the  in- 
scriptions were  entirely  worn  away,  and  not  a  trace  remained 
to  tell  the  stranger  whose  ashes  were  beneath  his  feet. 

We  had  wandered  away  from  the  main  path,  following  a 
little  narrow  one  strewn  with  gravel,  when  a  tomb  of  very 
ancient  appearance  arrested  our  attention.  It  was  in  the 
style  of  the  small,  square  tombs  of  the  sixteenth  century,  and 
the  stone  was  worn  away  in  certain  places  by  the  ever-busy 
fingers  of  time.  There  were  traces  of  old  inscriptions,  bul 
BO  crumbled  away  that  nothing  could  be  made  out  of  them 
Upon  one  side  was  the  simple  inscription  : 

*'  MR.  JOHN  BUNYAN, 

"  AUTHOR    OF    THE    PILGRIM  S    PROGRESS, 

"  OU.  3U-i  Augmt,  1688, 
''Act.  60." 

It  was  what  we  had  come  to  see — Bunyan's  grave.  The 
simple  inscription  struck  us  dumb,  for  we  were  standing  over 
the  dust  of  the  author  of  that  wonderful  book  which  has  pen- 
etrated to  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  whose  name  is  like  a 
saint's  in  thousands  of  Christian  households.  The  despised 
artisan  of  London,  base-born,  lowly  every  way,  and  treated 
with  cruelty,  made  his  name  immortal,  so  that  in  lands  where 
then  nought  was  heard  but  the  Indian's  wild  war-whoop, 
now  millions  of  Christians  pronounce  his  name  with  love  and 
veneration  I  His  earnest,  fearless  spirit ;  his  pure  devotion  to 
Christ  ;  his  endurance  of  suffering  and  strong  intellect  can 
never  be  forgotten  so  long  as  religious  freedom  has  worship- 
pers. 

The  tomb  bore  the  imprints  of  the  years  which  have  rolled 
away  since  the  body  of  John   Bunyan  was  laid  in  its  final 


24C  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

rest.ng-place — and  what  changes  and  wonders  have  they  wit- 
nessed I  Worlds  have  been  peopled,  as  it  were,  since  then, 
and  light  has  driven  out  darkness,  and  the  hideous  spirit  of 
Religious  Intolerance  has  grown  feeble,  and  in  every  year, 
every  month,  every  day  since  then  John  Bunyan  has  borne 
his  part  of  the  battle  for  truth  and  piety.  His  pages  have 
comforted,  strengthened  or  sustained  some  desponding  heart 
each  hour  since  then — how  wonderful  is  that  immortality 
which  a  man  creates  for  himself  How  strange  that  by  a 
heroic  act  poor  man  may  work  on  till  the  earth  perishes, 
while  the  fingers  which  once  executed  it  are  but  dust ! 

Turning  away  from  the  tomb  we  resumed  our  wanderings, 
and  soon  stood  before  the  grave  of  Dr.  Watts.  He  was  not  a 
great  man,  not  a  great  poet,  but  he  ivas  a  good  man,  and  his 
simple  songs  are  now  sung  from  Atlantic  to  Pacific  in  many 
homes  and  churches.  As  we  leaned  against  his  tomb,  we 
had  a  vivid  glimpse  of  the  summer-sabbaths  of  America  ;  of 
the  simple  country-churches,  and  the  songs  of  village-choirs 
singing  the  hymns  of  Watts.  We  remembered  Longfellow's 
touching  picture  of  the  village  blacksmith  : 

"  5e  goes  on  Sunday  to  the  church, 

And  sits  among  his  boys ; 
He  hears  the  parson  pray  and  preach, 

He  hears  his  daughter's  voice. 
Singing  in  the  village-choir, 
And  it  makes  his  heart  rejoice. 
It  sounds  to  him  like  her  mother's  voice 

Singing  in  Paradise  ! 
He  needs  must  think  of  her  once  more, 

How  in  the  grave  she  lies : 
And  with  his  hard,  rough  hand  he  wipes 

A  tear  out  of  his  eyes." 

Those  smiling  sabbaths  I — how  beautiful  and  holy  they 
were  I  And  it  is  something  to  the  honor  of  Isaac  Watts  that 
his  hymns  are  chanted  in  so  many  lands  on  these  holiest  of 


REMINISCKNCES    OF    THE     PAST.  '241 

all  days  !  And  speaking  of  sabbaths — a  sabbath  morning  in 
London  in  the  summer  time  is  a  beautiful  sight  I  People  clad 
in  their  best  crowd  all  the  streets  on  their  way  to  church,  and 
the  chimes  from  a  thousand  bells  fill  the  air  with  cheerful 
music.  We  have  sometimes  listened,  when  perhaps  a  half- 
dozen  miles  out  of  town,  to  the  sabbath-bells,  and  never  in 
any  town  or  country  heard  an\  thing  more  beautiful.  The 
distance  made  the  music  joft,  and  the  variety  of  sounds,  and 
their  cheerful  tone,  amid  the  sabbath  sunlight,  made  the  very 
air  seem  joyful.  After  service,  go  into  the  parks,  and  you 
find  them  crowded  with  men,  women  and  children,  especially 
the  latter,  who  are  brought  out  in  great  swarms  to  play  upon 
the  grass  in  the  open  air.  But,  to  return  to  Bunhill  Fields  ; — 
after  leaving  Bunyan's  and  Watts'  graves,  we  wandered  at 
leisure  over  the  crowded  but  quaint  grave-yard.  Some  of  the 
grave-stones  were  extremely  old-fashioned,  and  bore  the, 
quaintest  inscriptions.  In  one  part  of  the  yard  the  graves 
wore  crowded  together  so  closely  that  there  was  no  space  for 
walking  between  them,  but  this  was  where  persons  had  been 
buried  many  years  ago.  In  a  part  where  recent  graves  had 
been  made  we  saw  some  exceedingly  beautiful  tombs  and 
marbles.  There  were  not  many  people  in  the  yard,  for  Bunhill 
Fields  is  not  an  elegant,  fashionable  burying-ground.  In  it  lie 
some  of  the  sternest  of  the  old  puritans,  who  had  little  sym- 
pathy for  the  fashions  of  this  world.  Indeed  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  yard  was  gloomy  and  stern.  Not  a  flower  raised  its 
head  anywhere  to  be  kissed  by  the  breezes  sweeping  over  the 
spot.  Not  a  cedar  or  cypress  tree  was  anywhere  to  be  seen. 
And  they  would  not  be  in  keeping  there.  The  religion  of 
those  grand  old  puritans  was  a  solemn,  almost  gloomy  thing. 
Yet  was  it  not  superior  to  the  easy,  poetical  religion  of  this 
age? 

K  16 


242  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LOJsDON. 


STOKE  NEWINGTON. 


"We  made  one  day  a  delightful  visit  to  Stoke  ISTewington, 
an  ancient  suburb  of  London,  and  saw  many  things  fail  of 
interest.  Many  years  ago  Stoke  Newington  was  a  very  fash- 
ionable place  for  residence.  In  Q,ueen  Elizabeth's  time  there 
was  a  royal  residence  in  it.  We  were  shown  a  delightful 
walk,  lined  with  ancient  oak-trees,  which  is  called  "  Q,ueen 
Elizabeth's  walk,"  because  she  used  often  to  walk  in  it  with 
Lord  Leicester.  There  is  a  very  beautiful  villa  in  it,  with  a 
fine  park,  which  the  dissolute  George  lY.  used  as  a  residence 
for  some  of  his  mistre^6es.  But  there  are  other  things  in 
Stoke  Newington  of  far  deeper  interest  than  any  of  these 
relics  of  royalty.  There  is  in  it  a  Friends'  Burying-Ground, 
where  lie  the  ashes  of  that  pure  and  simple-hearted  man, 
William  Allen,  who  though  simple,  yet  consorted  with  kings. 
When  the  Emperor  of  Russia  was  in  London,  he  came  with 
plain  William  Allen  to  the  Friends'  Meeting  House  in  Stoke 
Newington,  and  knelt  upon  the  bare  floor  of  the  house  of 
worship,  while  the  honest  Q^uaker  prayed  for  him  as  he 
would  do  for  any  other  man.  We  have  seen  one  who  wit- 
nessed that  scene,  and  he  says  it  was  a  thrilling  sight.  The 
grave-jard  is  a  quiet  spot — -the  graves  are  all  grassed,  over, 
and  are  without  tombstones.  In  it  lies  buried  the  mother  of 
Mary  Howitt.  A  few  years  ago,  while  in  England,  we  had 
the  happiness  of  making  her  acquaintance,  and  a  more  intel- 
ligent, happier  woman  we  never  met.  Her  brow  was  smiling 
as  that  of  youth,  though  she  was  very  old. 

In  Stoke  Newington  there  is  one  street,  on  which  are 
houses,  in  which  Dr.  Watts,  Daniel  Defoe,  the  author  of 
"  Robinson  Crusoe,"  and  Mrs.  Barbauld  lived  !  The  very 
house  in  which  Defoe  lived  was  pointed  out  to  us,  and  we 
could  not  help  stopping  awhile  before  it  to  think  of  the  olden 


REi4{MSCENCE6    OF    THE    PAST,  243 

time.  There  is  a  Common,  east  of  the  house,  on  w^iich  he 
used  1  ii  h)ve  to  walk  in  pleasant  weather.  The  house  is  old 
and  crumbling,  yet  it  is  still  inhabited  and  finely  furnished. 
The  outside  of  some  of  the  most  aristocratic  buildings  in  Lon- 
don are  exceedingly  plain,  and  this  old  building  is  occupied 
by  a  person  of  wealth  and  taste.  To  wander  through  its 
rooms  and  think  of  the  time  when  Defoe  sat  over  his  desk  in 
one  of  them,  writing  his  story  which  will  live  as  long  as  the 
world,  to  the  delight  of  the  young,  was  to  us  a  choice  pleas- 
ure. It  almost  seemed  as  if  the  man  "Friday"  lurked  some- 
where behind  some  of  the  great  M'indow-curtains,  and  as  if 
relics  of  the  wonderful  spot  where  Crusoe  was  so  long  a 
"  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed,"  must  be  hid  somewhere  in  the 
recesses  of  the  old  building  I 

The  house  in  which  Mrs.  Barbauld  hved  is  not  far  from 
Defoe's,  and  like  it,  is  very  old.  The  house  in  which  Dr. 
Watts  lived  is  in  pretty  much  the  same  condition.  There  is 
an  old  building  in  Stoke  Newington  which  used,  many  years 
ago,  to  be  a  chapel,  and  in  it  Dr.  Watts  used  to  preach.  It 
has  not  been  used  for  many  years  for  public  worship,  but 
recently  a  religious  society,  while  refitting  their  ordinary 
place  of  worship,  used  the  old  building,  though  it  is  little 
better  than  a  ruin,  for  a  few  Sabbaths.  We  improved  the 
occa.sion,  and  attended  meeting  there  one  day.  The  old  pews 
and  the  pulpit  v^^ere  gone,  but  we  could  see  the  place  where 
the  pulpit  used  to  stand,  and  the  old  walls  were  the  very  same 
which  had  for  many  a  year,  looked  kindly  dowp  upon  Isaac 
V/atts  I  Our  thoughts,  we  fear,  were  not  witli  die  preacher 
while  we  were  in  the  old  building,  but  "  far  away,"  among 
the  scenes  of  years  ago. 

There  is  a  beautiful  cemetery  in  Stoke  Newington,  and  it 
was  given  to  the  inhabitants  by  Lady  Abney,  who  was  a 
sincere  friend  to  Dr.  Watts.  There  is  in  it  a  pretty  little 
church,  where  funeral  services  are  performed  by  all  denomi- 


244  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

nations  of  Christians.  Lady.  Abney  was  very  liberal  in  her 
religious  views,  and  the  cemetery  is,  with  its  church,  open  to 
all  alike,  and  though  its  grounds  were  never  consecrated,  yet 
many  rij;id  churchmen  have  been  buried  in  it.  There  is  no 
quieter  burial  spot  within  a  dozen  miles  of  London  in  any 
direction,  and  there  are  cedars  of  Lebanon  in  it,  wide  lawns, 
and  beautiful  flowers.  There  is  an  old  clergyman  in  the 
church,  who  is  always  ready  to  officiate  for  a  small  fee  on 
funeral  occasions.  He  is  over  eighty  years  old,  his  hair  is 
like  the  snow,  and  he  is  a  fit  companion  to  such  a  solemn  place. 

One  shining  evening,  with  a  female  friend  we  visited  the 
cemetery,  and  stopped  in  the  little  Gothic  chapel  to  talk  with 
the  venerable  clergyman.  The  tears  actually  sprung  over 
his  eyelids  when  we  said  that  we  came  from*  America. 
"  Ah  I"  said  he,  "  I  have  two  fine  boys  there  !"  Almost 
every  family  among  the  poor  respectable  classes  in  England, 
has  some  member,  or  relation  in  America.  The  old  man 
asked  a  thousand  questions  about  the  wonderful  far  land  of 
liberty  in  the  west,  which  we  were  glad  to  answer. 

We  wandered  over  the  lonely,  yet  lovely  cemetery,  stopping 
here  and  there  to  read  the  inscriptions  on  the  grave-stones. 

"  Here,"  said  our  companion,  as  we  stopped  before  a  beauti- 
ful tablet  under  the  branches  of  a  tree,  "  here,  a  few  years 
ago,  was  buried  a  pretty,  prattling  girl  whom  I  knev/",  and 
loved,  and  who  often  used  to  come  and  play  among  the 
fxowers  on  our  lawn.  One  day,  very  suddenly,  she  died  of  a 
heart-disease.  The  suddenness  of  the  stroke  almost  killed  her 
father  and  mother.  Her  portrait  was  taken  after  death,  and 
when  she  was  arranged  for  the  artist,  I  came  in  and  looked 
at  her.  Never  saw  I  so  touching  a  sight  I  She  was  dressed 
as  if  alive,  and  was  half  reclining  upon  a  sofa  in  the  drawing- 
room.  Her  cheeks  Avere  like  the  rose-leaves,  and  if  her  eyes 
had  not  been  closed  I  should  have  believed  her  alive.  The 
southern  windows  were  thrown  open — it  was  a  June  morn 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  24.'' 

ing — and  the  odor  of  flowers  came  in  with  the  songs  ot  the 
birds.  Her  mother  entered  the  room — the  sight  was  too 
much  for  her,  and  she  fainted.  The  fair  girl  was  buried  in 
this  sweet  spot,  but  will  never  be  forgotten  by  those  who 
knew  her." 

In  one  part  of  the  Cemetery  we  noticed  a  fine  monument 
to  Dr.  Watts,  but  the  most  interesting  spot  is  away  to  the 
north-eastern  corner,  where  a  small  plot  of  ground  is  fenced 
ofTfrom  the  rest.  On  it  there  is  a  large  and  venerable  oak, 
and  that  was  the  favorite  place  of  retirement  of  Dr.  Watts, 
when  he  was  alive.  A  small  tablet  bears  an  inscription  tc 
that  effect.  It  formerly  was  a  part  of  the  park  belonging  tc 
Lady  Abney,  and  as  Dr.  Watts  was  her  guest  for  a  longtime, 
he  selected  the  shade  of  this  old  tree  as  his  favorite  place  of 
resort.  Many  a  time  has  the  good  man  rested  upon  the  grass 
beneath  its  branches,  and  perhaps  composed  there  some  of 
those  songs  which  are  now  sung  in  all  Christian  lands. 

Lady  Abney  caused  the  spot  to  be  railed  off  from  the  rest 
of  the  grounds  after  his  death.  The  path  to  the  spot  is  well 
worn  by  the  feet  of  those  who  admire  the  goodness  and  piety 
of  Dr.  Watts. 

England  above  all  other  lands  is  celebrated  for  the  respect 
which  she  pays  to  her  distinguished  dead.  The  country 
chiwches  and  church-yards  of  England  are  the  most  beautiful 
in  the  world,  and  the  influence  of  such  places  is  chastening 
to  the  soul,  in  this  harsh  world  of  ours 

HAMPSTEAD  AND  HIGHGATE. 

As  "we  have  before  remarked,  there  are  in  London  many 
places  where  lie  the  ashes  of  distinguished  men  and  women 
of  centuries  gone.  Some  of  these  places  are  in  out-of-the-way 
nooks  and  corners,  where  the  great  world  never  comes — for 
Buch  places  we  always  cherished  a  fondness.     Not  always  to 


246  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

St.  aul's  and  Westminster  Abbey,  where  the  bones  of  great 
ni'  1  repose  in  grandeur,  was  it  our  pleasure  to  wander  to 
^'  iher  reminiscences  of  the   past,   but  to  quieter  places,  to 

iglected  spots. 

In  the  village  of  Hampstead,  a  suburb  of  London  on  the 
west,  Joanna  Baillie,  the  distinguished  authores-s,  used  to  live. 
"She  died,  as  the  reader  well  knows,  during  the  winter  of  last 
year  ;  and  it  seemed  to  the  literary  world,  that  when  she 
died,  the  link  which  connected  them  with  the  past  generation 
of  poets  and  authors  was  broken.  She  was  a  favorite  with 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  the  "Great  Unknown"  used  always  to 
visit  her  in  her  quiet  home  at  Hampstead  when  he  was  in 
London.  She  was  the  companion  of  many  of  those  bright 
and  glorious  geniuses  which  the  world  worships  now- — now 
that  they  are  gone  beyond  the  reach  of  the  envy  and  hatred 
of  their  generation. 

One  day  we  wandered  over  the  pretty  village  of  Hampstead, 
and  from  the  summit  of  Hampstead  Heath,  had  a  splendid  vie\^ 
of  Windsor  Castle,  distant  nearly  twenty  miles.  The  village 
is  on  an  eminence  which  overlooks  London,  and  is  an  exceed- 
ingly healthy  situation  for  a  residence.  After  wandering  ovei 
the  Heath,  and  village,  at  last  we  entered  the  village  grave 
yard,  and  almost  the  first  grave  we  saw  was  that  of  Joanna 
Baillie.  It  half  seemed  to  us  that  she  selected  the  spot  before 
her  death,  for  it  is  as  sweet  and  beautiful  a  place  as  even  a 
poet  would  wish  to  be  buried  in.  The  grave  is  where  all 
London  lies  beneath  it.  The  blue  hills  of  Surrey  rise  beyond 
the  tall  dome  of  St.  Paul's  ;  the  great  town  lies  open  as  on  a 
map  far  below,  while  the  noisy  hum  of  traffic  swells  upwiLrd 
on  the  breezes  which  hasten  over  the  great  town.  A  more 
beautiful  burial-spot  we  never  saw,  though  the  cemetery  ig 
often  surpassed,  taken  as  a  whole  ;  and  it  is  fit  that  a  poetess 
ihould  be  buried  in  such  a  place. 

Not  far  from  Hampstead  is  Highgate  Cemetery;  and  we 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  24*7 

walked  over  to  it.  It  is  by  far — in  our  opinion-  le  most 
beautiful  cemetery  in  the  region  of  London,  though  it  is  not 
equal  to  Mount  Auburn  and  Greenwood  in  America,  or  Pere 
le  Chaise  in  France.  Yet  it  is  situate  on  an  eminence — on 
the  south-eastern  slope  of  a  beautiful  hill,  looking  down  upon 
the  busy  metropolis,  and  is  a  quiet  and  retired  place.  We 
saw  many  beautiful  and  even  magnificent  tombs  in  the 
cemetery,  and  among  others  one  that  saddened  us,  for  it  was 
the  grave  of  a  countryman,  who  had  died  far,  far  away  from 
his  native  land.  We  remembered  our  own  feelings  when  on 
the  same  foreign  shore,  we  lay,  as  many  thought,  upon  our 
last  couch. 

A  short  distance  from  the  cemetery  we  entered  upon  one 
of  the  sweetest  English  lanes  that  ever  we  saw.  Perhaps  a 
kind  of  beauty  was  added  to  it  from  the  fact  that  it  used  once 
to  be  the  favorite  walk  of  John  Keats  and  Percy  Bysshe  Shel- 
ley. For,  many  years  since,  Keats  and  Shelley  used  to  walk 
in  it,  and  Byron  too,  and  Coleridge.  Leigh  Hunt,  if  we  mis- 
take not,  first  met  Keats  in  this  lane,  and  speaks  of  it  in  some 
of  his  writings. 

One  day  in  June — on  a  morning  full  of  sunshine  and  songs 
— Shelley,  who  was  full  of  strange  fancies,  as  he  was  walking 
with  a  companion  on  the  brow  of  this  beautiful  eminence  of 
Highgate,  stopped  and  gazed  for  a  long  time  upon  the  lovely 
scene  spread  out  before  him,  until  he  at  last  burst  into  tears, 
exclaiming,  "  I  have  seen  this  all  before  I  In  the  past — in 
some  previous  existence — where  ?   where  ?" 

Who  has  not,  on  some  peculiar  occasion  or  moment  in  his 
life,  felt  the  same  ?  Felt  that  the  then  present  moment,  with 
all  its  adjuncts  of  circumstance  and  place,  had  been  lived 
somewhere  by  himself  before  ?  To  Shelley,  the  feeling,  which 
was  probably  an  illusion  of  the  brain,  was  like  a  revelation 
of  something  beyond  the  common  sight  of  men,  an  insight  into 
the  mysterious  past,  and  he  felt  awed,  surprised,  affected  to 


248  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

tears  with  the  thought  that  previous  to  his  present  existence 
he  had  seen  with  the  same  soul,  that  glorious  landscape  I 

Coleridge  often  came  with  some  pleasant  book  to  pass  away 
the  hours  among  beautiful  things — to  Highgate  Hill,  and  the 
region  of  the  Cemetery. 

There  is  an  old  church,  right  in  the  heart  of  London,  which 
we  visited  one  day,  where  repose  the  ashes  of  John  Milton, 
the  sublime  author  of  Paradise  Lost.  It  is  called  Cripple- 
gate  Church.  As  we  stood  within  its  ancient  walls,  with  the 
light  coming  in  beautifully  and  solemnly  through  the  painted 
windows,  we  thought  of  the  time  when  the  remains  of  the 
great  poet  were  interred  there — when  he  was  alive  and  com- 
posing that  poetry  which  has  made  his  name  immortal.  The 
old  clerk  of  the  place  showed  us  in  the  Book  of  Registry,  the 
entry  of  Milton's  name.     It  read  as  follows  : 

"  John  Milton — consumption — gentleman." 

In  these  brief  words  the  death  of  one  of  the  world's  greatest 
men  was  recorded.  It  was  simply  "  John  Milton  ;"  he  died 
of  "  consumption  ;"  and  he  was  a  "  gentleman."  [N^ot  a  sin- 
gle word  about  his  greatness  and  glory — as  if  he  had  been  a 
common  man  of  the  world.  Some  admirer  has  placed  in  the 
church  a  small  marble  statue  of  the  poet,  and  that  is  all. 

We  occasionally  met  with  people  in  London  circles,  who 
were  once  intimately  connected  with  those  whose  names  are 
held  in  great  esteem  and  reverence  in  America.  Through  a 
singular  blunder  we  first  met  the  daughter  of  the  celebrated 
divine.  Dr.  Adam  Clarke,  and  subsequently  made  her  ac- 
quaintance. We  also  had  the  extreme  pleasure  of  a  visit  at 
the  house  of  the  only  surviving  daughter  of  the  distinguished 
Robert  Hall.  She  lives  on  the  Surrey  side  of  the  Thames, 
has  a  beautiful  home,  xnd  is  a  remarkable  Vv'oman.  In  Lon- 
don society  one  continually  meets  with  people  who  are  as  it 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  249 

were  the  connecting  links  between  this  and  the  past  age. 
There  are  those  w^ho  were  intimate  with  Byron,  and  Scott, 
and  Shelley,  when  they  were  alive  ;  those  who  knew  Camp- 
bell, L.  E.  L.,  and  other  persons  of  genius  now  deceased  ;  and 
to  hear  such  men  converse  on  the  merits  of  the  great  ones 
gone  to  their  final  sleep,  knowing  them  once  as  they  did  in- 
timately, was  to  us  a  luxury  and  a  privilege. 

CHATTERTON. 

"While  we  are  writing  of  men  of  past  ages,  the  reader  will 
excuse  us  if  we  indulge  in  a  few  thoughts  upon  that  most  un* 
fortunate  of  the  English  poets — Thojnas  Chatterton.  Four 
months  of  his  life  were  spent  in  London,  and  those  his  most 
eventful  ones,  for  they  were  his  last.  Who  has  not  wept 
over  the  history  of  those  four  sad  months — months  of  deser- 
tion, disappointment,  madness,  and  death  ?  We  have  walked 
the  very  streets  he  used  to  walk  ;  gazed  at  the  building  in 
which  was  once  his  little  garret-room,  where  he  died — and  if 
we  refresh  the  reader's  memory  with  some  of  the  incidents  of 
his  melancholy  history,  we  are  sanguine  of  pardon. 

He  was  born  a  century  ago  in  the  town  of  Bristol,  England. 
His  ancestors  for  many  generations  had  been  keepers  of  the 
St.  Mary  RedclifTe  church,  in  that  town — a  church  still  noted 
for  its  extreme  beauty.  His  father  died  before  "  the  won- 
drous boy"  was  born,  but  his  mother  resided  near  the  church, 
and  his  young  brain  was  filled  with  her  wild  legends  and 
marvellous  stories  concerning  it.  When  very  small  he  used 
to  get  the  keeper's  leave,  and  ramble  over  it  for  hours  to- 
gether, among  its  solemn  aisles,  and  ancient,  dingy  cloisters. 

When  five  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  school,  but  was  pro- 
nounced by  the  master  to  be  an  incorrigible  dunce.  Not  long 
after  this,  he  accidentally  met  an  old  French  book,  filled  with 

pictures  which  fo^ered  his  love  for  antique  things,  which  had 
K* 


250  WPAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

been  kindled  m  his  lonely  wanderings  through  Iledchff*» 
Chnreh,  At  eight  he  became  a  member  of  the  Bristol  Blue- 
cote  School,  and  was  an  astonishing  d  vourer  of  books.  He 
abstracted  time  from  his  sleeping  hours  to  gratify  this  passion, 
and  was  severely  whipped  for  it  in  several  instances.  When 
he  was  ten  years  old  he  became  reserved  and  melancholy, 
frequently  breaking  ont  into  fits  of  weeping.  His  ambition 
to  be  great,  famous,  and  gifted,  was  intense.  He  spent  his 
holidays  invariably  in  an  old  and  desolate  cloister  of  the 
diurch,  and  his  frequent  visits  attracted  .  attention.  It  was 
noticed  that  he  always  carried  with  him  pen,  ink,  and  paper, 
ochre  and  charcoal-dust.  The  room  was  visited  once  during 
his  absence,  and  nothing  discovered  save  an  old  chest.  If 
they  had  raised  the  lid  of  the  chest,  the  secret  would  have 
been  discovered.  As  ".t  was,  his  friends  made  up  their  minds 
that  he  was  fitting  'li'mself  to  join  a  roving  band  of  gipsies, 
then  in  the  vicinity  Df  Bristol.  But  here  he  came  regularly 
to  complete  his  mysterious  work.  When  he  was  twelve 
years  old,  he  amazed  an  inhabitant  of  Bristol  by  discovering 
in  the  old  chest  of  the  cloister,  the  man's  pedigree,  with  coats 
of  arms  painted  on  parchments.  He  traced  his  descent  back 
to  the  great  Earl  of  Northumberland,  and  the  man  received 
these  indubitable  proofs  of  his  noble  extraction  with  joy.  He 
did  not  suppose  a  mere  boy  capable  of  such  splendid  forgeries. 

A  literary  gentleman  was  just  then  writing  a  work  upon 
Bristol,  and  Chatterton  hearing  that  he  lacked  information  of 
the  early  history  of  the  town,  again  discovered  in  his  old  chest 
its  full  history,  illustrated  with  small  maps,  and  sketches  of 
the  streets  and  churches,  by  one  Canynge !  This  forgery 
must  have  required  great  skill. 

And  what  was  more  marvellous  still,  he  put  his  little  fingers 
down  into  the  old  chest,  and  drew  forth  poetry  of  exquisite 
beauty,  purporting  to  have  been  written  seven  centuries  be- 
fore,  and   principally  by  one   Thomas  Rowley,  a  monk,  who 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  251 

wrought,  according  to  this  young  lad's  discovery,  tragedies, 
epics,  and  interlude?,  in  delicious  profusion.  These  poems 
were  at  once  pronounced  by  the  great  men  of  the  day  to  be 
of  rare  beauty,  and  the  old  monk  took  his  place  among  the 
English  poets. 

How  strange  that  these  men  did  not  suspect  the  brilliant 
deception  practised  upon  them— and  yet  how  much  more 
strange  that  so  young  a  brain  should  possess  the  genius  to 
write  poetry  that  should  reflect  honor  and  fame  upon  a  ficti= 
tious  personage  ! 

Disguising  himself,  he  wrote  to  Horace  Waipole  of  London, 
then  at  the  head  of  the  literary  world,  mentioned  his  discove- 
ries, and  sent  a  specimen  of  the  poetry.  Waipole,  supposing 
him  to  be  some  distinguished  antiquarian,  wrote  back  as  to 
an  equal,  and  praised  the  poetry  as  containing  the  proofs  of 
great  genius. 

Now,  Ghatterton  thought  it  time  to  make  a  bold  stroke. 
So  he  borrowed  a  few  guineas  and  came  to  London — happy 
for  him  if  he  had  ever  stayed  away  I  He  came,  hov/ever, 
and  avowed  the  truth— the  drawings,  the  parchments,  the 
histories,  and  the  poetry,  were  all  the  work  of  a  boy  of  six- 
teen !  The  literary  coxcomb,  Lord  Waipole,  had  been  de- 
ceived by  a  mere  boy.  How  easily  he  might  have  protected 
him  and  led  him  on,  step  by  step,  to  one  of  the  highest  pin- 
nacles of  Fame  !  But  no.  When  he  saw  that  a  mere  boy 
had  v/rought  these  things,  instead  of  wondering  at  his  genius, 
he  was  enraged  at  his  deception.  He  tore  up  the  poor  boy's 
letters,  and  advised  him  to  go  home  and  mind  his  business. 
But  the  boy-poet  was  too  proud  for  that,  and  as  he  loved  hia 
mother  and  could  not  bear  to  pain  her,  he  wrote  her  pleasant 
letters  about  the  honors  that  were  showered  upon  him,  when 
in  fact  he  was  starving.  He  lived  a  while  with  a  plasterer 
in  Shoreditch,  but  the  poor  man  could  ill  afford  to  harbor  the 
melancholy  poet.     Next  he  removed  to  a  kind-hearted  milli* 


252  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

ner's,  in  Brook-street,  Holborn,  where  he  stayed  antil  his 
death.  The  building  is  now  occupied  by  one  StcfTauoni,  as  a 
furniture  warehou-e,  and  we  visited  it  one  day.  Here  he 
lived  many  Vvceks  on  the  borders  jof  starvation,  for  he  only 
hired  the  garret-room  of  the  milliner,  and  got  his  meals 
where  and  how  he  could.  Here  in  the  depths  of  his  despair 
he  wrote  the  hymn  which  has  caused  tears  of  joy  to  flow  from 
many  eyes  as  being  the  type  of  his  better  spirit.  Would  that 
he  could  always  have  preserved  the  beautiful  faith  embodied 
in  the  last  verse  • 

"  The  gloomy  mantle  of  the  night, 
Which  on  my  sinking  spirit  steals, 
Will  vanish  at  the  morning  hght, 
Which  God,  my  East,  my  Sun,  reveals !" 

Alas!  not  one  of  all  the  great  ones  who  had  praised  the 
poetry  of  the  supposed  monk  oiTered  help.  What  should  he 
do  ?  Live  a  few  miserable  months,  haunted  by  dire  images, 
and  comforted  daily  with  an  unsatisfied  hunger — or  die?  The 
rich  crowded  past  him,  selfish  and  sordid — they  whose  names 
are  now  in  oblivion — and  there  v/as  no  bright  hope  to  cheer 
his  soul.  The  night  gathered  about  his  young  heart,  his 
brain  grew  wild,  and  in  a  paroxysm  of  despair  he  committed 
suicide.     He  wrote  his  own  epitaph  as  follows 

"  TO  THE  MEMORY  OF 

"THOMAS  CHATTEK.TON. 
"  Reader,  judge  not ;  if  thou  art  a  Christian  believe  that 
he  shall  be  judged  by  a  superior  power  ;  to  that  Power  is  he 
alone  now  answerable." 

He  was  buried  among  the  paupers  of  Shoe  Lane.  As  we 
stood  over  the  supposed  spot  of  his  grave,  now  a  market* 
place,  we  thought  of  the  day,  long  ago,  when  his  poor  corps« 


REMINISCENCES    OP    THE    PAST.  253 

was  borne  thither  to  be  cast  into  a  pauper  grave-yard,  never 
to  be  recovered  again — and  then  of  the  present  fame  of  that 
young  genius  I  Hardly  any  great  author  has  existed  since 
then  who  has  not  written  of  the  "  wondrous  boy  Chatterton  I" 
Neglected  as  he  was  by  his  own  age,  the  succeeding  one  has 
put  his  name  among  the  stars  ! 

While  we  write,  a  fragment  of  that  very  chest,  from  which 
his  slight  fingers  drew  such  poetry  and  parchments,  lies  upon 
our  desk.  Perhaps  those  fingers  have  often  rested  upon  it, 
while  his  heart  was  throbbing  with  ambitious  hope  !  If  he 
could  only  have  knov.'n  that  a  century  from  then,  a  mere 
fragment  of  his  old  Canynge  chest  would  be  worshipped  as  a 
precious  relic  of  him,  how  his  young  heart  would  have 
leaped  !  But  his  story  tells  us  a  useful  truth ;  that  genius, 
sooner  or  later,  must  and  will  have  it^  reward. 

NELSON'S  TOMB. 

There  are  few  visitors  in  London  who  go  to  see  the  tomb 
of  the  great  Nelson — England's  naval  hero.  His  monument 
may  be  seen  any  day  in  the  great  Cathedral  of  St.  Paul's — 
under  the  loftiest  dome  in  England.  But  his  tomb  it  is  difH- 
cult  to  see,  for  it  is  beneath  the  stone  floor,  in  the  dark  crypt 
of  St.  Paul's.  We  visited  the  spot  one  chilly  winter's  day, 
descending  by  a  door  in  the  nave,  at  the  southern  transept. 
Our  guide  was  an  old  man,  whose  hair  clustered  in  gray  curls 
about  his  forehead,  for  he  had  seen  many  winters.  He  carried 
a  lantern  in  his  right  hand,  and  led  the  way  for  us.  We  first 
visited  the  tomb  of  Sir  Christopher  Wren,  the  great  architect 
of  St.  Paul's,  and  many  other  famous  buildings  in  London, 
It  is  situated  nearly  under  the  altar  of  the  former  Cathedral 
The  subterranean  apartment  was  dark  and  gloomy,  and  tht. 
rays  of  the  lantern  only  "  made  the  darkness  visible."  Not 
far  from  the  tomb  of  the  great  architect,  are  the  remains  of 


254  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

Bishop  Newton.  Next  to  these  are  those  of  Sir  Joshua  Rey- 
nolds, the  painter,  and  Benjamin  West  of  Pennsylvania.  A 
feeling  strange  and  powerful  came  over  us  as  we  stood  there 
amid  the  gloom,  with  our  feet  upon  the  dust  of  Reynolds  and 
West.  The  two  countries — England  and  America — -were 
represented  in  that  solemn  place  of  distinguished  dead.  With 
the  sight  of  Reynolds'  tomb  came  thoughts  of  his  companions 
—of  sturdy,  cross  Sam  Johnson,  and  fawning  Boswell,  and 
splendid  Edmund  Burke,  and  poor  but  glorious  "  Goldy" — > 
the  world's  Oliver  Goldsmith  ! 

The  dingy,  dreary  old  place  was  well  calculated  to  excite 
one's  imagination,  and  we  could  see  them  plainly  as  living. 
In  a  strange  corner  of  the  place  we  saw  some  decayed  elii- 
gies  in  stone.  One  was  of  Dr.  Bonne  in  his  shroud  ;  another 
of  Lord  Chancellor  Hatton,  and  still  another  of  Sir  William 
Cockayne. 

But  now  our  old  guide  led  us  to  Nelson's  tomb,  saying, 

"  Here  lies  the  greatest  of  them  all  I" 

It  is  immediately  under  the  great  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  and 
is  shut  out  from  the  rest  of  the  crypt  by  iron  palisades 
Eight  stone  pillars  surround  the  spot,  giving  to  it  the  appear- 
ance of  a  small  temple.  The  tomb  is  in  the  centre.  The 
sarcophagus  is  of  very  ancient  date,  for  Cardinal  Wolsey  ages 
ago  designed  it  for  his  own  use,  but  after  his  fall  it  was  seized 
by  King  Henry,  and  kept  at  Windsor  until  the  time  of  George 
III.,  who  gave  it  for  the  body  of  Nelson.  But  Nelson  was 
ne-ver  placed  in  it.  UjJon  this  tomb  lies  the  costly  sarcopha- 
gus with  Nelson's  coronet  upon  it.  This  struck  us  with  sur- 
prise— for  what  use  can  be  an  empty  sarcophagus  laid  upon 
the  tomb  of  any  man  ?  From  historical  associations  and  in- 
trinsic gorgeousness  it  is  of  great  value,  but  is  a  singular  dec- 
oration to  be  placed  wpon  a  man's  grave. 

There  was  an  air  of  awful  gloom  over  and  around  the  spot 
—we  could  have  seen  .lothing  but  for  the  guide's  lantern. 


REMINISCENCES    OF    THE    PAST.  255 

The  old  man  seemed  lost  in  thought,  and  was  not  garruloug 
as  guides  usually  are. 

*•  And  thig  is  Nelson's  tomb  !"  said  we  aloud. 

"Yes,"  replied  the  guide,  "but  you  should  have  seen  his 
funeral." 

"  Did  you  see  it  ?"  we  asked. 
j'     *'  Yes— and  a  great  sight  it  was.' 

We  begged  him  to  tell  us  about  it. 
_  "  The  hearse,"  said  he,  "  was  decorated  with  models  of  the 
Victory — above  was  a  canopy  with  six  black  plumes,  and  a 
coronet  in  the  centre  supported  by  four  columns.  The  car  wag 
drawn  by  six  splendid  horses,  each  being  led.  The  Prince  of 
Wales  followed  it,  and  the  Dukes  of  York,  Clarence,  Kent, 
Cumberland,  Su§se:s  and  Cambridge.  There  were  also  there 
many  of  the  noble  men  who  fought  his  battles  with*  him. 
Hardy  ^amen  wept  like  children.  The  great  Cathedral  was 
lit  up  by  torches  and  lamps,  as  all  the  sunlight  was  purposely 
excluded.      Seats  were  fitted  up  to  accommodate  thousands. 

You  should  have  seen  them  v/hen  all  were  congregated — - 
for  never  will  this  old  Cathedral  show  such  another  sight  ? 
One  hundred  and  thirty  lamps  were  suspended  from  the  great 
dome  above,  and  the  effect  was  imposing.  The  music  was 
solemn  aod  grand,  and  by  invisible  machinery  a  bier  was? 
raised  from  the  vault  below  to  the  aperture  under  the  dome, 
and  upon  Jt  the  coffin  was  placed.  ^ilor&  folded  u-p  the  flags 
of  the  Tictory  and  laid  them  in  the  grave.  The  noble  sea- 
veterans  were  ^eterojined  to  secure  something  as  a  remem- 
brance of  their  great  commander^  and  each  tore  off  a  piece 
of  these  flags.  The  great  concourse  of  people  lingered  around 
the  spot  when  the  ceremonies  were  over,  as  if  they  eruld  not 
bear  to  leave." 

We  asked  the  old  man  if  the  masses  out  of  doors  mani- 
fested any  sorrow. 

"  Yes — all  Londo-n  wa»  m  gloom.     Sai^:ors  everywhere  felt 


256  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

that  they  had  lost  their  brightest  ornament.     The  shops  were 
all  closed  for  the  day  in  the  business  streets." 

We  again  stood  before  the  tombs  of  Reynolds  and  West. 
The  old  guide  manifested  no  interest  in  them.  And  so  it  is 
generally — the  heroes  of  war  are  loved  and  worshipped  by  the 
masses.  Nelson  in  the  eyes  of  the  old  man,  was  his  country's 
Eaviour.  But  to  us,  Reynolds  with  his  brush  and  canvass 
was  greater  than  Nelson  upon  bis  Victory  I 


CHAPTER  XV. 

STRANGERS   IN    LONDON. 


AMERICANS. 


We  can  hardly  understand  the  reason,  but  it  is  a  fact 
that  many  citizens  of  America,  when  traveUing  in  Europe, 
seem  to  lose  their  democratic  principleSj  or  are  at  least 
ashamed  of  them.  As  a  rule,  no  travelling  people  in  the 
world  are  such  sycophants — and  we  speak  advisedly.  An. 
Englishman  in  America  never  feels  called  upon  to  speak  in 
praise  of  those  institutions  among  us,  which  he  does  not  ad- 
mire in  reality.  But  many  Americans  in  England  grow  en- 
thusiastic in  praise  of  the  aristocratic  institutions  of  that 
country.  We  all  remember  what  Lord  Brougham  said  to  the 
American — and  there  was  ground  for  it.  Too  many  of  them, 
while  in  Europe,  affect  a  love  for  kingcraft  and  despotism^ 
and  too  often  the  Ambassadors  of  this  country  abroad,  are 
rather  sympathizers  with  the  nobles  than  with  the  people-— 
with  oppressors  than  with  the  oppressed. 

We  well  remember  the  advice  of  a  sage  friend,  given  to  us 
before  leaving  America : 

"  Everywhere  you  go — be  not  ashamed  of  America.  You 
will  gain  respect  by  such  a  course."  And  we  found  it  ex- 
actly so.  Almost  the  first  evening  we  spent  in  English  so* 
ciety,  a  lady  whose  mind  was  bitterly  prejudiced  against 
America,  said  : 

17 


258  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON, 

"  Your  republicanism  will  not  last  twenty  years,  it  is  not  a 
natural  and  safe  system  /"  We  asked  if  among  the  proofs 
of  the  naturalness  and  safety  of  the  English  system,  she  would 
reckon  the  fact  that  there  were  three  millions  of  paupers  in 
England  ?     From  politics  she  clianged  to  literature,  saying : 

*'  I  admit  that  you  have  great  reason  to  be  proud  of  Irving 
and  Cooper— but  you  have  no  poets." 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  v/e  have,"  we  replied 

"But  none  like  Shakspeare  and  Milton!"  she  said. 

"  Shakspeare  and  Milton  are  tio  mote  yours  than  ours,"  we 
replied.  "  We  are  as  closely  connected  with  them  as  you — 
we  are  both  descendants  of  the  age  and  race  which  gave 
them  birth,  and  that  is  all  either  of  us  can  claim." 

*'  But  we  have  Tennyson." 

•'  And  wo,  Longfellow  I" 

"  Well — I  applaud  you  for  defending  America— but  your 
countrymen  scarcely  ever  do  so  here  I"  This  remark  stung 
us  to  the  quick,  for  we  knew  it  to  be  true.  It  is  well-known 
throughout  England,  and  is  often  spoken  of— that  Americana 
worship  English  aristocrats  Avhen  they  are  in  England,  if 
thereby  they  can  gain  the  slightest  degree  of  attention.  The 
English  Aristocracy  know  how  to  win  over  the  American 
Ministers  to  their  opinions.  They  tickle  hira  with  flattering 
attentions  ;  invite  him  to  their  magnificent  country=seats,  un- 
til he  emulates  them  in  their  gorgeous  gauds,  and  his  salary 
is  not  large  enough  to  meet  his  expenses. 

Benjamin  Franklin  was  no  sycophant,  and  still  was  re» 
spected  by  nobles  and  Idngs.  Even  in  Paris  where  there  is  a 
natural  loudness  for  gewgaws  and  pageantry,  the  simple  and 
stern  old  printer  had  the  reverence  of  the  highest.  So  if  we 
keep  men  of  real  intellect  abroad,  they  will  not  need  to  make 
a.  show — but  if  of  small  calibre,  pomp  and  circumstance  are 
accessary. 

As  a  general  rule  the  Americans  are  received  well  in  Eng- 


STRANGERS    IN    LONDON.  269 

lish  circles.  As  a  niatter  of  course  the  nobles  are  not  spe- 
cially cordial  towards  a  republican,  but  even  they  like  an 
American  all  the  better  for  daring  to  defend  his  native  land. 

Perhaps  no  American  scholar  ever  was  better  received  in 
England  than  Mr.  Emerson  the  poet-lecturer.  His  reception 
among  the  literary  and  learned  classes  was  of  the  most 
flattering  nature,  and  he  never  showed  the  slightest  symptoms 
of  man-worship.  The  simplicity  of  his  manners,  his  total 
want  of  worship  for  mere  rank  or  station,  endeared  him  to  all 
those  who  knew  him  intimately. 

It  is  perfectly  easy  for  an  American  who  is  among  the 
aristocrats  of  Europe,  to  cling  to  his  republicanism  ;  and  for 
sach  a  course  he  will  obtain  great  respect  from  those  who 
profess  to  despise  American  theories  respecting  government. 

The  late  Henry  Colman  was  a  fine  instance  of  this  fa<rt. 
It  is  well-known  that  he  was  petted  and  flattered  by  the  first 
nobles  of  England.  Some  have  gone  so  far  as  to  accuse  him 
of  king- worship,  but  unjustly.  No  American,  it  is  true,  ever 
was  received  in  a  more  cordial  manner  by  the  English 
aristocracy.  Invitations  poured  in  upon  him  from  all  quarters, 
but  he  never  for  a  moment  disavowed  his  republican  and 
democrat! cal  opinions,  and  never  would  hear  an  unjust  remark 
in  reference  to  America  without  replying  to  it.  He  however 
was  a  candid  man,  and  when  Just  criticisms  were  made  upon 
this  country,  he  acknowledged  their  truth,  and  also  claimed 
the  same  liberty  to  criticize  what  he  saw  wrong  in  England. 
When  he  returned  to  America  he  published  his  volumes,  ui 
which  he  was  not  afraid  to  expose  the  terrible  pov(^rty  in 
England,  and  the  wretched  condition  of  the  English  peasantry. 
From  the  nature  of  his  book,  it  consisting  of  many  graphic 
pictures  of  aristocratic  life,  it  had  a  very  wide  circulation 
among  the  nobility.  And  they  respected  him  the  more  for 
his  conscientious  deportment,  and  when  he  returned  again  to 
England,  the  same  halls  and  castles  were  open  to  him  with 


260  WHAT    I   SAW    IN    LONDON. 

the  old  warmth  of  reception — indeed  his  second  visit  was 
more  flattering  than  the  first.  It  is  told  of  him,  that  when 
the  late  French  Revolution  broke  out,  he  was  at  the  country- 
seat  of  one  of  the  English  nobles.  The  news  of  Louis 
Philippe's  overthrow  came  while  the  party  were  at  dinner. 
Every  one  deprecated  it,  and  spoke  in  terms  of  disapprobation 
of  the  republicans.     Said  Mr.  Colman  : 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  but  I  love  politi- 
cal liberty,  and  thank  God  that  there  is  so  fine  a  prospect  of 
seeing  Frenchmen  in  the  possession  of  it  1" 

But  it  should  not  be  the  aim  of  American  tra^rellers  to  see 
aristocratic  life  in  Europe — they  had  far  bett^  r  study  tJie 
people,  move  among  the  refined  and  wise  if  they  wish,  but  not 
become  the  despicable  followers  and  flatterers  of  some  heredi- 
tary despot  for  the  sake  of  winning  one  of  his  smiles.  These 
very  men  despise,  from  the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  those 
Americans  who  are  so  recreant  to  their  principles.  There  is 
a  call  for  reform  in  this  base  business,  for  already  in  certain 
portions  of  Europe,  we  are  looked  upon  as  the  defenders  of  old 
Conservatism,  rather  than  political  Liberalism  Such  is  not 
the  fact.  The  people  of  this  country  are  radically  democratic, 
but  are  often  misrepresented  abroad,  both  by  common  travel- 
lers and  lawful  representatives  at  foreign  courts.  This  should 
be  the  case  no  longer. 

GRISI  AND  ALBONI. 

We  saw  Mademoiselle  Alboni  before  we  saw  her  great 
rival  the  "  Swedish  Nightingale."  Madame  Grisi  sang  with 
her  upon  the  occasion,  and  to  our  ears,  sang  very  enchantingly, 
too.  But  she  is  no  longer  the  rage  of  the  fashionable  world 
— her  triumph-days  are  gone.  Making  no  pretensions  to 
musical  skill,  we  of  course  venture  upon  no  criticisms,  yet 
relate  impressio?is      We  heard  these  mistresses  of  song  at  the 


STRANGERS    IN    LONDON.  261 

Italian  Open  House  ;  a  single  box  we  occupied  costing  twenty- 
five  dollars.  We  stepped  into  it  a  little  before  eight  o'clock, 
and  were  pleasantly  astonished  at  the  sight.  Imagine  a  vast 
interior,  lighted  by  a  mammoth  chandelier,  emitting  light 
almost  like  a  sun, — several  hundred  splendid  boxes,  filled 
with  the  nobility  and  aristocracy  of  England,  blood,  wealth, 
and  genius — a  vast  pit,  a  stall  gallery,  and  an  amphitheatre. 
The  dress-etiquette  of  the  boxes  is  very  rigid,  and  2^6rhaps  (as 
the  Opera-goers  claim)  it  is  well  that  it  is  so.  The  opera  for 
the  evening  was  Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake  Italianized.  The 
*,  orchestra  was  immense  in  numbers,  and  the  effect  of  its 
music  was  indescribably  grand.  An  idea  of  the  power  and 
sublimity  of  musical  sounds  stole  over  us  such  as  we  never 
felt  before.  The  scenic  displays  were  gorgeous  and  beautiful 
Madame  Grisi  was  dressed  in  the  simplest  manner  possible — 
in  plain  white,  with  a  crimson  sash  tied  prettily  about  the 
waist.  Her  figure  like  her  acting  was  good,  especially  when 
fire,  enthusiasm,  and  daring  were  in  the  lines  she  sung.  Her 
eyes  flashed  forth  the  true  Italian  fire,  and  her  hair  was  dark 
and  beautiful.  Her  voice,  to  us,  was  supassingly  thrilling  and 
passionate,  and  while  she  sung  we  could  but  recollect  the 
anecdote  of  her.  which  is  said  to  be  true  — how  that  once 
being  invited  by  some  haughty  nobleman  in  London,  to  an 
evening  party,  when  the  supper  was  announced,  an  official 
politely  informed  her  that  supper  was  provided  in  a  distinct 
room  for  the  musicians!  The  proud  nobleman  in  the 
insolence  of  his  hauteur  hx^oi  Xyuq  pohtenessin  his  treatment 
of  a  guest.  How  Grisi  stormed — how  her  black  eyes  flashed 
lightning,  and  her  step  grew  proud  I  A  half-dozen  of  the 
elite  of  the  nobility  and  literary  aristocracy  followed  her  to 
her  supper-room,  and  there  with  her  associate  singers,  she 
sung  such  songs  of  marvellous  beauty,  that  the  outsiders 
begged  admittance,  but  found  the  door  locked  against  them. 
We    could   see    yet   in    Madame    Grisi    the    magnificent, 


262  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

passionate  acting,  and  that  sweet  dignity  which  has  ever  been 
one  ol  her  cliaracteristics. 

Mademoiselle  Alboni  sang  the  part  of  Malcolm,  the  same 
evening,  and  her  voice  was  the  softest,  clearest  we  then 
had  ever  heard.  8he  w\'is  dressed  with  simplicity,  and  the 
charm  of  her  acting  was  in  a  certain  naivete  which  appeared 
in.  every  gesture.  She  is  enormously  fat,  with  a  beautiful 
complexion,  auburn  hair,  and  a  low  broad  forehead.  When 
she  came  out  upon  the  stage,  she  was  greeted  with  great 
applause,  and  her  first  notes  were  like  a  bird's — so  soft, 
gushing,  and  artless.  Although  far  away  from  her  in  a 
distant  box,  each  note  came  clearly  to  us,  and  distinctly.  At 
length  she  seemed  to  gather  courage,  or  passion,  and  grew 
more  fitful  and  declamatory  in  her  style  and  voice.  Then 
the  mighty  orchestra  broke  in  upon  her,  and  yet  above  its 
tempest,  her  sweet  voice  warbled,  fainter,  yet  almost  as 
clearly  as  ever.  Then  the  orchestra's  thunder  died  away  and 
she  was  alone,  soaring  step  by  step  to  her  climax.  Every 
moment  added  to  the  intense  passion  of  her  manner,  and  the 
wonderful  compass  of  her  voice.  Up  and  up,  farther  and 
farther  in  the  blue  above  soared  her  voice,  until  an  idea  seized 
us  that  a  certain  note,  so  high  that  we  could  scarcely  z??z«gme 
it,  should  be  her  resting-place,  should  complete  the  harmony. 
And  by  one  bold  effort  she  reached  it  and  poised  there  like  a 
lark,  filling  the  capacious  theatre  with  the  thrilling  note,  and 
then  sank  back  exhausted.  All  had  been  still,  painfully  still, 
until  her  climax  was  reached  and  fniished,  but  then  such  a 
clapping  of  soft,  w^hite  hands,  such  a  waving  of  handkerchiefs 
we  never  saw  before.  The  Earl  of  Carlisle  arose  in  his  box, 
and  threw  to  her  a  splendid  bouquet,  which  with  admirable 
perception  and  gracefulness  she  threw  into  the  hands  of  her 
rival,  Grisi.  Two  of  the  sons  of  ex-king  Louis  Philippe  were 
present  and  followed  suit  with  bouquets. 

We  were  in  London  during  one  of  the  "seasons"  of  Jenny 


STRANGERS    IN    LONDON.  263 

Lind's  triumph  there.  One  night  she  sang  at  the  Italian 
Opera  in  Lucie  cli  Lammermoor.  The  price  of  hoxes  rose 
from  twenty-five  dollars  to  eighty,  and  were  eagerly  bought 
at  that  price.  There  was  the  same  enthusiasm  in  Londoa  as 
in  American  towns,  recently,  during  the  wondrous  perform 
ances  of  the  "  nightingale."  In  America  we  have  not  seen 
her  to  advantage,  for  she  is  most  triumphant  in  the  Opera. 
^QY  acting  is  surpassingly  beautiful.  Her  manner  was  so 
artless  and  frank  that  she  captivated  all  hearts,  and  would 
have  done  so  had  her  voice  been  less  beautiful  than  it  was. 
With  a  good-natured  countenance,  mild  eyes,  and  a  pleasant 
mouth,  consummate  acting,  and  a  voice  superior  perhaps  to 
any  in  the  world,  it  is  not  strange  that  all  London  was  mad 
to  see  her.  To  us  her  chief  glory  lies  in  the  fact  that  with 
all  her  almost  miraculous  powers,  notwithstanding  all  the 
splendid  temptations  which  luxurious  noblemen  threw  in  her 
way,  she  remains  as  pure,  as  free,  and  generous,  as  when  she 
graced  the  simple  home  of  her  father  at  Stockholm.  Amid 
the  applauses  and  flatteries  of  the  Berliners,  the  Parisians,  the 
Londoners,  and  the  Americans,  she  preserves  her  original  sim- 
plicity and  pureness  of  heart.  One  of  her  intimate  friends, 
while  in  England,  was  Mrs.  S.  C.  Hall,  the  authoress,  whose 
beautiful  residence  of  "  The  Rosary,"  at  Old  Brompton,  Lon- 
don, was  not  far  from  the  house  Mdlle.  Lind  occupied. 

FREILIGRATH. 

We  visited  one  spring  evening,  by  invitation,  the  celebrated 
German  exile-poet,  Ferdinand  Freiligp.ath.  His  residence 
was  then  in  a  northern  suburb  of  the  town,  a  half-hour's  brisk 
ride  from  the  Exchange.  We  met  with  a  warm  reception 
from  the  poet,  from  the  fact  of  our  being  an  American.  He 
vvas  alone,  in  his  drawing-room,  reading.  We  were  disap- 
pointed in  his  appearance — perhaps  agreeably  so.     We  had 


264  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

suppostl  that  an  exile  in  the  cause  of  Jiberty  mu&t  be  pale  of 
face,  spiritual,  and  his  body  attenuated.  But  we  were  mis- 
taken ;  instead  of  a  wasted  rnartyr,  we  saw  a  large  and  ro- 
bust man,  with  a  full,  broad  face,  and  huge  beard,  and  an 
abundance  of  fine,  black  hair.  His  forehead  was  exceedingly 
large  and  rotund.  Ideality,  as  fixed  by  the  phrenologists, 
was  large,  as  well  as  Causality.  His  face  was  intellectual, 
and  yet  there  was  marked  animality  in  it.  Indeed,  from  this 
we  think  arises  his  great  love  for  his  kind.  Mere  intellect 
cares  for  science  and  the  arts,  and  overlooks  humanity.  The 
great  poet,  or  artist,  is  full  of  strong  impulses  or  passions,  and 
these,  guided  by  intellect,  enable  him  to  write  poetry.  In 
many  instances  the  animal  feelings  ruin  the  man,  as  in  the 
case  of  Byron.  But  without  them  the  poet  is  not  readable — 
his  literary  offspring  lack  fire  and  power  : 

"  If  he  stir  you  at  all,  it  is  just,  on  my  soul, 
Like  being  stirred  up  with  the  very  North  Pole.'* 

We  were  soon  talking  of  America,  a  subject  which  inter- 
ested the  poet  deeply,  for  he  is  himself  a  republican  in  senti- 
ment. Of  our  great  natural  resources  he  spoke  in  terms  of 
wonder,  and  also  of  the  energy  of  the  American  nation. 
When  he  spoke  of  his  native  land  he  became  sadder.  The 
first  Prussian  revolution  had  transpired,  and  he  was  full  of 
hope,  if  not  for  the  establishment  of  republicanism,  of  a  con- 
stitutional monarchy,  and  eventually  of  something  still  more 
democratical.  He  spoke  with  great  interest  of  Professor  Long- 
fellow, whose  acquaintance  he  formed  in  Germany  years  ago. 
and  with  whom  he  has  since  corresponded. 

During  the  evening  his  wife  entered  the  room,  and  we  had 
the  pleasure  of  making  her  acquaintance.  She  is  a  fair  speci- 
men of  German  female  beauty  (among  the  refined  classes), 
has  dark  hair,  and  beautiful  gray  eyes,  pale  cheeks  with  a 
tinge  of  crimson,  and  a  slender  form. 


STRAN'GKHIS    IN     '.^GIsUON.  265 

They  were  making  preparations  to  go  back  to  Prussia,  aa 
his  friends  were  again  in  power. 

Freiligrath  was  born  at  Detmold,  the  capital  of  the  little 
princedom  of  Lippe-Detmold,  Prussia,  on  the  17th  of  June, 
1820.  In  1835  he  first  began  to  publish  his  poetry  in  the 
German  newspapers.  At  that  time  he  was  a  merchant's 
clerk — an  office  not  congenial  to  the  taste  of  a  poet.  Gradu- 
ally and  surely  his  reputation  extended,  until  he  was  great. 
In  1839  he  threw  up  his  mercantile  profession,  and  devoted 
himself  to  literature.  In  1844  he  published  a  work  entitled, 
"  Confession  of  Faith,"  in  which  he  advocated  democracy. 
The  ire  of  the  king  was  ignited  by  it,  and  he  was  obliged  to 
flee  for  his  life.  He  knew  not  where  to  go.  He  was  poor, 
but  trusted  in  God,  and  kept  a  stout  heart.  William  Howitt 
made  an  arrangement  for  him  to  become  connected  with  a 
German  house  in  London,  for  which  he  should  receive  a  good 
salary,  and  he  accordingly  came  to  England,  where  he  re- 
mained two  years.  He  was  warmly  welcomed  by  that  por- 
tion of  the  English  literary  world  that  has  sympathies  v/ith 
humanity  and  the  spirit  of  the  age,  but  the  aristocracy  slighted 
the  exile.  Bulwer  once  called  upon  him,  but  the  men  and 
women  of  place  and  power  passed  him  by.  It  mattered  little, 
however,  for  such  men  as  Thackeray,  Howitt,  and  Dickens 
welcomed  him.  He  needed  not  their  smiles,  for  a  brilliant 
triumph  was  awaiting  him  in  Prussia. 

A  few  weeks  after  we  saw  him,  on  the  evening  above  men- 
tioned, he  returned  to  his  native  Prussia,  and  everywhere  the 
people  gathered  at  his  feet  with  huzzas  of  welcome.  He 
shortly  after  wrote  a  poem  entitled  "  The  Dead  to  the  Liv- 
ing," which  was  published.  It  eloquently  exposed  the  con- 
duct of  the  King  during  the  revolution.  On  the  29th  of  Au- 
gust, 1848,  while  at  Dusseldorf,  he  was  again  arrested  on  the 
charge  of  high  treason,  and  was  summoned  before  the  Minis- 
ter of  Public  Instruction.     Dusseldorf  was  in  a  state  of  intense 


2(JG  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

excitement.  The  evening  of  liis  arrest  seven,  thonsand  stu 
dents  marched  its  streets,  solemly  chanting  his  poem.  The 
effect  was  thrilling.  Thousands  offered  to  beat  down  his 
prison-walls  and  release  him,  but  it  was  wisely  resolved  tc 
await  his  trial,  which  was  the  first  under  the  new  constitu- 
tion, granting  a  trial  by  jury.  His  wife  and  children  wen 
allowed  to  visit  him  four  times  each  week  in  the  presence  of 
an  officer.  On  the  third  of  October  he  was  brought  to  his 
trial.  Six  hundred  of  the  Burgher  Guard  surrounded  the 
building  in  which  his  trial  was  conducted.  The  building 
was  crowded  to  excess  by  some  of  the  noblest  men  and 
women  in  Prussia,  witnesses  of  the  scene.  There  was  no 
boisterous  excitement  ;  every  face  was  solemn  and  sad — they 
were  to  see  that  day  whether  there  was  liberty  in  Prussia  or 
not.  Freiligrath,  calm  as  a  statue,  entered,  and  when  he 
had  taken  his  seat,  as  if  by  magic,  a  thousand  beautiful  bou- 
quets were  throvi^n  at  his  feet,  but  there  were  no  outbursts 
of  applause.  It  was  clearly  proved  that  9,000  copies  of  his 
poem  had  been  sold — that  he  was  the  author. 

*'  What  is  your  verdict  V  asked  the  Clerk  of  the  Court, 
of  the  Foreman. 

*'  Not  Guilty  I"  was  his  answer,  and  then  the  walls  of  the 
court-room  vibrated  as  with  thunder.  The  poet  was  born 9 
on  the  shoulders  of  the  sturdy  Germans  away  to  his  home. 
The  balconies  and  windows  in  the  streets  were  full  of  fine 
ladies,  who  waved  their  handkerchiefs,  and  the  people  in  the 
streets  spread  his  path  with  branches  and  flowers,  to  his 
house.  He  felt  it,  and  all  Germany  felt  it  to  be  a  triumph 
of  the  cause  of  Truth  and  Freedom.  But  the  days  of  ari«fo- 
cratic  rule  hastened  on;  there  came  a  reaction,  and  FercH- 
nand  Freiligrath  once  more  was  in  danger  of  his  life  if  he  re- 
mained in  his  native  land.  Once  more  the  noble  patriot  fl.ea 
to  England,  where  he  now  is  awaiting  calmly  the  next  great 
Revolution  of  Nations,  which  shall  give  to  the  people  their 
liberties. 


CHAPTER  XVL 

POPULAR.   ORATORS. 

There  are  few  really  great  and  popular  orators  in  Eng- 
land, or  London  at  the  present  time.  There  are  parliamen- 
tary speakers  of  eminent  ability,  there  are  pulpit  orators  of 
renown,  but  there  are  few  popular  out-door  orators.  Daniel 
O'Connell,  who  used  to  rouse  the  great  masses  of  people  as  a 
whirlwind  does  a  forest  of  trees,  is  no  more  ;  George  Thomp- 
son, who  once  had  exceeding  power  as  a  public  orator,  seems 
of  late  to  confine  himself  to  his  parliamentary  duties,  and 
many  of  the  orators  of  the  days  of  the  E-eform  Bill  are  now 
silent.  Cobden  and  Bright  are  indeed  very  popular  with  the 
people,  and  we  have  alluded  to  them  in  another  chapter,  but 
they  are  not  masters  of  splendid  oratory.  John  Burnet  is  a 
popular  speaker  among  the  people  ;  an  humorous  Scotchman 
among  the  ranks  of  the  Reformers.  Charles  Grilpin  is  also  an 
enthusiastic  speaker.  One  reason  why  England  is  so  devpid 
of  popular  eloquence  is  because  for  the  last  few  years  she  has 
been  in  a  stagnant  condition,  socially  and  politically.  No 
great  agitation  has  swept  over  the  land  to  call  out  eloquence. 
The  Reform  Bill  Agitation  furnished  its  own  orators,  and  so 
iid  the  Anti- Corn-Law  movement,  but  since  then  no  national 
commotion  has  aroused  the  spirit  of  the  people. 

Joseph  Sturge  is  a  popular  man  throughout  England, 
though  possessing  none  of  the  graces  of  oratory.  He  is  not 
so  great  in  intellect  as  in  goodness  ;  his  devotion  to  all  humane 
objects,  to  all  reforms,  is  that  of  a  sincere  and  thorough 


268  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Christian.  His  popularity  is  unbounded  throughout  the  king- 
dom, for  he  is  known  everywhere  for  his  charities.  He  is 
wealthy,  but  gives  much  of  his  income  to  the  poor,  and  his 
life  is  "  a  daily  beauty."  He  once  stood  for  Parliament,  re- 
fusing to  bribe  electors  m  any  manner  or  shape,  and  lacked 
unly  seventy  votes  of  an  election.  He  was  opposed  by  John 
Walter  of  the  Times,  who  spent  in  bribes  more  than  $75,- 
000,  for  which  he  was  unseated.  Mr.  Sturge  is  about  fifty 
years  old,  and  has  a  face  innocent  and  loveful  as  a  child's 
His  forehead  is  beautifully  large  and  rotund  ;  his  hair  is  soft 
and  curly,  and  his  eyes  are  blue  and  mild.  He  is  not  a  fluent 
ppeaker,  and  is  not  distinguished  for  his  eloquence,  but  there 
is  always  sagacity  in  his  words.  His  audiences  are  always 
extremely  enthusiastic,  and  the  reason  is,  because  he  does  so 
much  for  the  people. 

EDWARD  MIALL. 

We  would  like  to  give  to  the  reader  a  sketch  of  the  two 
best  of  England's  popular  orators,  and  will  commence  with 
Edward  Miall.  He  is  upon  yonder  platform,  and  is  about  to 
speak.  There  are  thousands  crowding  about  him,  and  as  he 
comes  forward  they  rise  involuntarily,  and  greet  him  with  a 
storm  of  cheers.  In  a  moment,  however,  they  are  hushed, 
and  still  holding  their  breath,  as  it  were,  to  catch  his  first 
aint  words.  He  is  a  stripling  in  appearance,  slim  and  pale, 
yet  with  eyes  dark  and  flashing,  and  soft,  black  hair.  He 
trembles  with  emotion  or  timidity  even  to  the  tips  of  his 
fingers.  At  first  you  can  scarcely  hear  him  speak,  he  is  so 
tremulous  and  low-voiced,  but  by  degrees  he  becomes  ab- 
sorbed in  his  subject — he  forgets  his  audience — and  each  suc- 
cessive sentence  grows  in  eloquence  and  power,  until  you  find 
yourself  breathless,  gasping  to  grasp  every  idea,  every  word 
and  action  I     Each  sentence  is,  you  notice,  beautifully  con 


POPULAR    ORATORS,  269 

slructed,  but  as  he  advances  you  forget  the  mere  construction 
of  his  sentences  in  the  splendor  of  his  eloquence  and  argu- 
ment, and  the  strange  magnetism  of  his  presence.  He  com- 
mences a  peroration^recapitulates  swiftly  his  whole  argu- 
ment, and  while  he  moves  grandly  on,  the  audience  seem 
awe-struck,  and  scarcely  stir.  At  last  he  sits  down,  pale  and 
exhausted,  and  you  awake  as  if  from  a  dream. 

Edward  Miall,  the  Editor  of  the  Nomionformht  newspaper, 
is  one  of  the  truest  reformers  in  England.  His  popularity  is 
great,  and  yet  not  like  that  of  some  orators,  for  his  oratory  i? 
of  too  chaste  a  kind  to  be  fully  appreciated  by  the  masses 
The  selectest  circle  in  the  world  would  listen  to  him  with  do- 
light.  We  ofiten  saw  him  in  London,  but  know  little  of  his 
early  history.  He  is  a  splendid  writer,  and  was  offered  by  the 
proprietors  of  the  Times  a  brilliant  pay  if  he  would  furnish 
editorial  matter  for  its  columns — matter  which  should  be 
agreeable  to  them*.  He  replied,  nobly,  that  no  money  could 
ever  tempt  him  to  advocate  wrong,  or  to  conceal  his  liberal 
opinions  !  He  is  a  rare  man  in  London,  for  he  is  ready  to 
sacrifice  money,  and  fame,  if  necessary,  for  the  sake  of  his 
principles.  Many  of  his  writings,  if  considered  merely  as 
literary  performances,  are  exceedingly  beautiful,  and  his  edi- 
torials generally  are  characterized  by  great  energy  and  spirit. 
He  is,  we  believe,  about  forty  years  of  age,  and  has  for  a  long 
time  toiled  in  the  ranks  of  reform. 


HENRY  VINCENT. 

But  we  must  hasten  from  Miall  to  Vincent — the  most  ef 
fective  out-door  orator  in  England.  George  Thompson  is 
more  profound  ;  Edward  Miall  is  more  classical,  but  in  mighty 
'power  as  an  orator,  Henry  Vincent  is  peerless  in  his  native 
land.  His  oratory  would  probably  be  laughed  at  in  Parlia- 
ment, but  give  to  him  an  audience  of  a  few  thousand  of  the 


270  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

honest  whole-souled  people,  and  he  will  make  them  frantic 
with  his  eloquence.  No  other  man  in  Britain  can  mould 
them  as  he  can.  We  heard  him  for  the  first  time  when  all 
Europe  was  affrighted  at  the  Revolution  in  Fiance.  He  rose 
before  an  audience  of  thousands — a  small,  red-faced  man  of 
thirty-five  years  of  age.  We  saw  instantly  one  great  secret 
of  his  success,  and  it  was  his  consummate  acting.  He  seemed 
to  act  his  thoughts  with  his  face,  and  often  foreigners  not  un- 
derstanding a  word  of  English,  but  simply  from  gazing  at  his 
speaking  face  have  cheered  him  enthusiastically.  His  pan- 
tomime is  indeed  thrilling,  and  in  vain  we  essay  to  describe  it. 
The  night  on  which  we  first  heard  him,  he  commenced  his 
speech  with  great  moderation,  occasionally  indulging  in  flashes 
of  wit  and  humor.  Whenever  he  said  anything  humorous 
his  face  assumed  an  expression  which  of  itself  would  have 
convulsed  an  audience  with  laughter.  But  we  could  see  that 
the  audience  seemed  to  be  expecting  some  grand  pitch  of  ex- 
citement, some  fascinating  crisis.  By  degrees  he  grew  more 
fervid  ;  his  face  b^  gan  to  twitch  with  nervous  agitation,  and 
it  grew  ruddy.  He  traced  the  power  of  the  aristocracies  of 
the  world,  and  of  the  destruction  which  is  everywhere  their 
accompaniment.  He  travelled  over  France,  Spaiil,  Germany, 
America,  and  Italy,  then  came  back  to  England.  The 
picture  was  full  of  gloom — darkness  and  misfortune  seemed 
to  beset  the  nations  ;  the  very  hall  grew  dim  ;  the  faces  of 
his  audience  were  sorrowful,  while  his  own  was  the  picture 
of  stern  melancholy.  Suddenly  his  face  grew  radiant  with 
smiles  ;  he  pictured  young  Liberty  in  France,  in  Italy,  and 
America  I  As  he  went  on,  he  grew  more  and  more  intense 
in  his  fervid  eloquence.  He  showed  us  Europe  as  she  would 
he  in  the  glorious  time  soon  coming  when  her  people  shall 
embrace  Liberty  I  The  audience  poured  out  torrents  of 
cheers  ;  but  now  he  executed  his  final  and  grand  stroke  of 
eloquence.     He  painted  in  glowing  colors  the  future  of  Eng 


POPULAR    ORATORS.  271 

land.  Each  heart  beat  fast,  and  burned  hotly,  as  he  spoke 
with  intense  enthusiasm  of  England  in  that  golden  age  which 
is  coming.  He  stopped  for  a  moment,  and,  with  an  enthusi- 
astic smile,  uttered  softly  the  name,  "  England  .'"  The  look, 
the  manner — they  M^ere  magical  !  Not  a  cheer  burst  forth, 
but  tears  were  streaming  from  all  eyes.  Every  moment 
added  to  the  now  painful  intensity  of  the  scene.  Smiles  and 
tears  struggled  for  the  mastery  upon  the  orator's  face.  As  he 
went  on  the  great  masses  of  people  clustered  as  if  insane 
around  him.  We  saw  one  man  go  up  to  him  and  try  to  stop 
him,  fearing  that  sudden  death  would  be  the  consequence  of 
such  excitement. 

He  stopped  ; — looked  round  about  him  ; — no  cheers  inter- 
rupted the  strange  silence.  Ail  eyes  hung  upon  his  lips  ; — 
he  exercised  a  spell  upon  every  heart.  Soon  he  looked  up  to 
heaven  in  a  supplicating  manner,  and  whispered,  "England  !" 
Then  louder,  "  England f''     And  louder  still,  "England!" 

He  fell  back.  He  wa?  done.  A  noise  like  wind  among 
the  forest  trees  swayed  ov°r  the  audience — it  was  not  voice, 
but  sobs  and  tears.  They  stood  entirely  entranced.  It 
seemed  as  if  they  never  vvonld  stir.  At  length  Vincent 
jumped  again  before  them,  and  with  his  handkerchief  waving 
about  his  head,  shouted,  "  Liberty  forever  !"  Then  the  very 
roof  trembled  with  the  phrieks  of  applause.  Fine  ladies 
swung  their  handkerchiefs  to  and  fro,  ai:d  staid  old  merchants 
growled  forth  their  cheers  ! 

A  recent  writer  says  of  Mr.  Vmcont : 

"It  has  often  seemed  to  me  as  I  have  watched  him,  tower- 
ing towards  the  close  of  a  speech,  that  its  peroration  would 
certainly  be  a  fit  of  apoplexy.  The  last  time  I  heard  him, 
the  concluding  words  of  his  address  were,  '  Hallelujah  ! 
•  Hallelujah  I'  which  he  screamed  out  with  such  mad  ener- 
gy that  I  feared  he  was  approaching  the  end  of  his  career." 

Henry  Vincent  was  in  early  life  apprenticed  to  the  printer's 


2*72  WHAT    I    SAW    IX    LONDON. 

trade,  and  became  a  proficient  in  the  art  of  type-setting-. 
Just  as  be  was  attaining  his  manhood,  in  the  year  1827,  the 
great  Chartist  Agitation  commenced  in  England,  and  the 
young  printer  forsook  his  types  for  the  platform,  lie  advo- 
cated physical  resistance  to  the  Government — a  fallacy  which 
be  has  since  abjured — and  became  a  doomed  man.  The 
voung  orator  with  his  wonderful  powers  upon  the  platform 
was  too  formidable  an  enemy  to  the  Government  to  be  paeaed 
over  easily. 

One  evening  he  had  been  addressing  an  out-door  audience 
of  many  thousands  in  London,  and  became  so  excited  as  to 
utter  unguarded  words.  He  in  fact  spoke  treason.  Leaving 
the  platfoim  he  proceeded  home,  and  on  the  threshold  of  his 
mother's  door  was  arrested  by  an  officer. 

"  You  are  my  prisoner,"  said  the  constable. 

"  For  what  act  ?"  asked  Yincent. 

"  For  speaking  treason,"  was  the  reply,  and  he  was  marched 
off  at  once  to  jail.  The  next  morning  he  was  bailed  out  by 
his  friends,  and  bound  in  the  sum  of  $15,000  to  appear  at 
Monmouth  Jail  the  day  previous  to  that  appointed  for  his 
trial.  As  soon  as  he  was  fairly  released,  he  again  boldly 
took  the  stump  against  the  tyrannical  Government.  He 
soon,  however,  discovered  that  an  ingenious  trap  was  laid  for 
him,  or  rather  those  friends  who  had  bailed  him  from  jail. 
The  officers  of  the  Government  got  out  fresh  Avarrants  for  his 
arrest  for  a  second  violation  of  law,  which  they  intended  to 
execute  a  few  days  previous  to  the  time  he  was  bound  to  ap- 
pear at  Monmonth,  and  thus  oblige  him  to  forfeit  his  bonds. 
But  he  was  on  the  alert,  and  waited  in  London  till  within  a 
few  hours  of  the  time.  He  then  hid  himself  in  the  bottom 
of  a  cart  loaded  with  straw,  and  which  wa^  driven  by  cne 
of  his  friends  in  a  smock  frock,  and  thus  rode  safely  to  jail, 
though  the  team  was  once  accosted  by  officers  in  search  of 
kira 


POPULAR    ORATORS.  273 

When  he  was  carried  to  the  Oonrt-House  for  trial,  the  im- 
mense multitude  which  surrounded  him  took  out  the  horses 
from  his  carriage,  and  themselves  drew  him  to  the  scene  of 
trial.  At  a  certain  stage  of  the  proceedings  the  mob  broke  in 
the  windows  with  stones,  and  after  trying  ineffectually  to 
calm  the  populace,  the  Sheriff  was  obliged  to  ask  young  Vin- 
cent to  address  the  people,  and  ask  them  to  go  away,  which 
e  did  with  perfect  success.  He  was  sentenced  to  imprison- 
ment for  a  long  term  of  years,  but  was  pardoned  at  the  end 
of  two.  His  cell  was  a  miserable  dungeon,  and  he  had  no 
company — nothing  but  grim  solitude  for  two  long  years. 

There  was  an  aperture  in  his  cell  of  small  dimensions,  but 
closely  wnred  over,  through  which  occasionally  came  a  gust 
of^  fresh  air.  He  was  looking  up  at  this  one  day,  when  he 
saw  peeping  through  it  as  sweet  a  face  and  bright  a  pair  of 
eyes  as  he  ever  saw  in  his  life  '  It  was  the  gaoler's  daughter 
—she  pitied  the  eloquent  young  democrat,  and  at  a  great  per- 
sonal risk  came  to  assist  him.  She  tore  away  the  wires  be- 
fore the  aperture,  and  with  a  string  let  down  to  him  a  basket 
nil  of  delicacies.  He  begged  fot  paper,  pens  and  ink,  and 
she  brought  them,  and  they  corresponded  wdth  each  other,  she 
giving  him  the  news  from  the  great  world  without,  he  telling 
her  of  his  thoughts  and  fancies  while  in  a  dungeon.  Here 
was  romance  in  a  prison  I  And  as  long  as  he  stayed  there 
this  girl  was  his  kind  and  noble  friend. 

At  last,  however,  his  case  and  condition  became  noised 
abroad,  and  a  great  storm  was  raised,  and  the  Government 
began  to  feel  it.  A  distinguished  Peer  came  down  to  see  him 
i  I  his  dungeon.  He  had  never  been  allowed  even  a  chair, 
and  he  determined  to  impress  the  fact  vividly  upon  the  Peer. 
So  when  he  entered  he  said  : 

"Please  be  seated,  my  lord — do  be  seated  I"  At  last  the 
young  orator  was  free.  Never  did  man  receive  a  heartier  re- 
ception than  he  did  from  his  native  people.     Millions  crowd- 


274  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

ed  around  him,  and  when  it  was  found  that  in  the  solitude  of 
his  dungeon  he  had  improved  his  wonderful  powers  of  oratory, 
and  was  ready  to  consecrate  them  to  the  cause  of  freedom, 
these  millions  rent  the  air  with  their  hurrahs. 

Mr.  Vincent  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  of  companions.  We 
remember  well  when  we  sat  by  a  winter's  fire  in  a  pleasant 
room,  listening  to  his  interesting  conversation.  Few  excel 
him  in  hearty  humor,  and  enthusiastic  conversation.  He  ia 
married,  ait^  resiles  just  out  of  London  on  Stamford  Hill 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

PULPIT    ORATORS. 

DR.    MCNEILE. 

Among  the  pulpit  orators  of  England  the  Eev.  Dr.  Hugh 
McNeile  of  Liverpool  occupies  a  distinguished  position.  He 
is  often  in  London — so  often  that  his  peculiarities  are  well 
known  to  all  Londoners.  He  has  for  many  years  been  the 
minister  of  St.  Jude's  Church,  Liverpool,  with  a  splenid  sal- 
ary, and  is  greatly  beloved  by  his  congregation. 

His  chief  characteristics  are  a  tremendous  energy,  strong 
decision  of  character,  and  great  enthusiasm  and  warmth  of 
heart,  so  that  he  is  at  times  almost  under  the  influence  of 
fanaticism.  Yet  such  is  the  stern  honesty  of  his  character, 
that  few  men  in  or  out  of  Britain,  possess  a  more  attached 
circle  of  friends. 

He  is  impulsive,  and  although  such  men  do  sometimes  err, 
they  are  far  more  likely  to  be  right  than  those  who,  lacking 
any  heart,  never  achieve  great  things  for  the  cause  of  Right, 
nor  are  ever  propelled  by  their  enthusiasm  (having  none,)  in 
a  wrong  direction. 

The  whole  of  Dr.  McNeile's  life  has  been  spent  at  war 
with  the  Catholics.  He  is  a  member  of  the  Established 
Church,  and  a&  a  minister  of  that  church  in  Liverpool,  where 
the  Catholics  are  exceedingly  numerous,  he  has  received 
many  provocations,  and  we  dare  say  himself  given  some.  At 
any  rate  he   has  fought  for  fifteen  years  without  any  respite. 


276  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

and  is  as  ready  for  tattle  to-day  as  lie  was  fifteen  years  ago. 
He  is  fond  of  excitement,  partly  perhaps  from  habit,  but  would 
die  a  martyr  to  his  faith,  readily,  if  the  sacrifice  were  required. 

In  the  pulpit  he  looks  more  like  a  son  of  Yulcan  than  a 
minister  of  the  Prince  of  Peace,  and  one  is  reminded  while 
looking  at  him  of  the  celebrated  Methodist  Minigter,  Peter 
Cartwright,  of  Illinois,  who  often  left  his  pulpit  to  silence  dis- 
turbances with  his  brawny  fists.  When  Dr.  McNeile  rises  \o 
gpeak^you  are  awed  by  his  powerful  physical  appearance  ;  he 
is  tall  and  stout,  w^ith  broad  ghouldera  and  muscular  arms, 
while  his  great,  sloping  forehead,  white  as  snow,  contrasts 
finely  with  his  dark  hair.  His  eyes  are  expressive  of  genius, 
while  his  whole  face  has  the  look  of  a  man  whom  all  the 
powers  of  Europe  could  not  driv^e  from  a  position  he  had 
taken  conscientiously.  He  speaks  best  extemporaneously ,  and 
then  when  roused  and  excited  he  pours  forth  a  torrent  of  fiery 
eloquence,  lashes  his  victim  without  mercy,  and  generally 
r^arries  his  audience  with  him.  While  speaking,  his  gesticu- 
ation  is  always  stately  and  in  keeping  with  his  character,  foj 
although  a  man  of  great  enthusiasoij  yet  he  always  wears  a 
look  of  dignity. 

He  is  a  famous  controversialist  — in  fact  he  has  always 
been  in  controversy  with  gomebody,  and  scarcely  a  noted  paper 
in  the  land  of  Britain  is  there,  which  has  not  at  one  time  or 
another  either  attacked  him,  or  published  letters  from  his  pen. 
He  is  said  to  be  a  hard-working,  laborious  man,  and  his  looks 
testify  to  the  fact-  He  is  a  great  favorite  with  the  ladies,  yet 
has  little  of  the  beau  in  his  character.  He  is  so  intensely 
sincere,  that  even  his  enemies  respect  him,  while  his  friends 
half  worship  him. 

He  is  mainly  powerful  when  combating  Error.  He  haa 
none  of  that  outbursting,  loving  eloquence  with  which  the 
celebrated  Thomas  Binney  of  Weigh  House  Chapel,  wins 
men  from  gin  over  to  purity  and  peace. 


PULPIT    ORATORS.  27 '^ 

A  good  anecdote  which  occurred  In  his  early  life  illustrates 
his  decision,  and  religious  honesty  of  character.  A  rich 
bachelor-uncle  of  his  gave  him  to  understand,  that  if  he  would 
marry  a  young  lady  who  was  a  favorite  of  his,  he  would  be- 
queath to  him  a  property  worth  over  $300,000.  The  young 
lady  was  very  beautiful  and  attractive,  but  lacked  what  to 
him  was  worth  more  than  everything  else — true  piety.  He 
therefore  refused  to  accede  to  his  uncle's  wish,  married  a  poor 
but  worthy  and  pious  young  lady,  and — lost  the  property. 

But  while  he  is  so  honest,  it  cannot  be  concealed  that  his 
fervor  and  zeal  for  truth  often  lead  him  into  excesses.  During- 
the  exciting  controversy  in  reference  to  the  establishment  of  a 
Catholic  hierarchy  in  England,  he  was  in  a  state  of  fearful 
agitation,  and  in  his  pulpit  called  for  the  punishment  of  death 
upon  those  priests  who  administered  the  confessional ;  but 
when  time  had  cooled  his  brain  he  frankly  asked  the  pardon 
of  his  audience  for  allowing  himself  to  enunciate  such  a  hor- 
rible sentiment.  The  apology  illustrates  his  character,  for  he 
frankly  acknowledges,  when  convinced  that  he  has  done 
wrong. 

FOX. 

W.  J.  Fox  is  not  now,  we  believe,  a  pulpit  orator,  but 
when  we  first  entered  London  a  few  years  since  he  was  so, 
and  we  venture  to  give  a  slight  sketch  of  him  here.  He  is  a 
member  of  Parliament,  and  one  of  the  finest  scholars  in  Eng- 
land. He  has  made  shipwreck  of  his  religious  belief,  and  is 
known  even  now  as  the  "  infidehpreacher." 

He  used  to  preach  in  a  church  in  Finsbury  Place,  and  his 
sermons  were,  considered  in  a  literary  point  of  view^,  master 
pieces.  In  person  he  is  very  short,  yet  fat  and  heavy.  Hia, 
face  is  white,  and  his  hair  very  black,  while  his  eyes  shine 
like  stars.  There  is  a  peculiar  melancholy  upon  his  face 
which  has  a  singular  appearance. 


278  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDCN. 

When  in  tlie  pulpit  he  used  no  action  while  speaking,  nor 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  nor  at  a  mass-meeting  of  his  con- 
stituents. Yet  such  is  the  force  of  his  chaste  and  stately  elo- 
quence, that  few  ever  are  glad  when  he  has  done  speaking. 
There  is  a  fascination  in  his  words  w.iich  captivates  every  re- 
fined ear.  He  was  quite  as  likely,  when  in  the  puipit,  to 
chooso  his  text  from  Watts'  hymns  as  the  Bible — from  Shaks- 
peare  as  from  Watts.  His  religious  helief  good  men  deplore, 
while  they  admit,  that  personally  he  is  a  man  of  good  morals, 
and  his  chaste  eloquence  all  lovers  of  pure  English  must  ad- 
mire. He  was  years  ago  a  warm  friend  of  William  Hazlitt, 
the  repuhlican  essayist,  and  they  sympathized  with  each  other 
\n  their  peculiar  religious  sentiments. 

He  is  a  thorough  advocate  for  Reform,  and  is  a  tried  friend 
of  the  people.  No  money  could  ever  bribe  him  to  devote  his 
brilliant  talents  to  the  cause  of  the  aristocracy,  and  this  should 
make  those  men,  who,  professing  stern  religious  principles, 
have  nevertheless  betrayed  the  people  of  England,  blush  for 
shame. 

Mr.  Fox  does  not  often  speak  in  Parliament,  but  when  he 
does  speak  he  is  listened  to  with  flattering  attention.  He  is 
the  originator  of  a  National  Education  Scheme  which  Richard 
Cobden  is  now  supporting,  and  the  object  of  which  is  to  give 
the  ignorant  masses  a  common-school  education. 

There  are  many  distinguished  clergymen  in  London  whom 
we  might  sketch,  and  yet  we  are  inclined  to  think  that  there 
are  not  now  many  brilliant  pulpit  orators  in  Britain.  The 
splendid  Robert  Hall  is  no  more  ;  and  Chalmers  is  gone,  and 
Clarke.  The  celebrated  Melville  is  well  known,  for  he  has 
imitators  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  ;  the  Hon.  and  the  Rev. 
Baptist  W.  Noel  is  also  widely  known,  and  is  truly  an  im- 
pressive pulpit  orator. 

The  Rev.  John  Angell  James,  of  Birmingham,  is  quite 
often  in  London,  and  is  well  known  throughout  America  by 


PULriT    ORATORS.  27?) 

his  published  works.  He  is  an  impressive  speaker,  hut  is  by- 
no  means  an  orator.  His  style  of  speaking  is  not  declama- 
tory, but  peaceful  and  convincing.  He  is  devoid  of  fine  ges- 
ticulatory  action,  is  indeed  too  inactive  in  the  pulpit,  but  not- 
withstanding that,  he  can  hold  an  audience  in  strictest  silence 
for  hours  There  is  an  indefinable  charm  in  his  sermons — 
they  are  so  complete,  so  finely  iUustrated,  and  so  interesting. 

The  Rev.  Dr.  Harris  is  at  the  head  of  a  Colh^giate  Institu- 
tion just  out  of  London,  and  is  widely  known  and  distinguished 
for  his  metaphysical  powers.  As  a  pulpit  orator  he  ranks 
M^ell,  but  his  sermons  are  chiefly  valuable  for  their  deep 
thought  and  research.  A  portion  of  Dr.  Harris'  early  his- 
tory is  full  of  thrilling  interest.  While  residing  many  years 
ago  in  a  seaport  town,  he  became  exceedingly  attached  to  a 
young  and  beautiful  widow.  Her  husband  was  a  mercantile 
gentleman,  and  had  gone  out  to  China  on  business,  but  the 
vessel  iu  which  he  took  passage  was  wrecked,  and  every  soul 
on  board  lost.  She  went  into  mourning  for  him,  and  mani- 
fested every  suitable  respect  for  his  memory.  She  mourned 
his  death  sincerely  and  intensely.  But  at  length  she  met  Dr. 
Harris,  who  was  struck  not  only  with  her  beauty,  but  w^ith 
the  loveliness  of  her  character.  She  Tequited  his  afTection — 
they  became  engaged — and  were  eventually  married. 

A  few  months  after  the  marriage,  they  went  down  one 
morning  before  breakfast  to  the  sea-side  for  a  walk.  As  they 
approached  the  water,  they  saw  that  a  ship  from  some  for- 
eign port  lay  in  the  ofFing,  and  a  small  boat  was  approaching 
them  from  it.  As  soon  as  it  came  near  enough  to  render  the 
persons  in  it  recognizable,  the  young  bride  fainted  away. 
She  had  discovered  her  first  husband  in  the  boat!  The 
story  soon  was  told  :  he  was  wrecked  in  the  China  Seas,  was 
thrown  upon  an  island,  where  he  subsisted  for  some  time, 
and  at  length  made  his  way  to  Chnia.  A  long  time  elapsed 
before  he  could  come  back  to  England — to  find  his  wife  the 


280  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON'. 

Dride  of  another  I  The  wretched  woman  only  recovered  from 
her  fainting  fit  to  go  raving  mad,  and  though  everything  wag 
done  for  her  which  science  and  affection  could  suggest,  she 
expired  in  a  few  weeks  in  great  mental  agony.  Her  death 
was  in  reality  a  mercy,  not  only  to  her,  but  to  the  two  gen- 
tlemen whose  wife  she  was. 

Dr.  Harris  is  a  devout  Christian,  and  a  man  of  large  thoughts 
and  liberal  ideas.  He  is  well  fitted  for  combating  infidelity 
in  all  its  phases. 

THOMAS  BINNEY. 

Having  sketched  the  portrait  of  Dr.  McNeile,  the  celebra* 
ted  Episcopal  pulpit  orator,  we  will  close  the  chapter  with  a 
like  sketch  of  the  most  popular  dissenting  minister  in  London 
—the  Rev.  Thomas  Binney. 

Having  heard  much  of  his  singularly  effective  powers  of 
oratory,  we  v/ent  one  morning  to  hear  him  at  the  "  Weigh 
House  Chapel,"  near  London  Bridge.  The  church  was  large 
and  commodious,  and  we  saw  that  Mr.  Binney  at  least  had 
the  power  of  attracting  large  audiences.  At  about  eleven 
o'clock  he  walked  up  the  pulpit  stairs  and  took  his  seat.  He 
is  one  of  the  finest  men  we  ever  looked  at,  in  his  personal  ap- 
pearance. He  is  tall,  and  sufficiently  corpulent  to  look  dig- 
nified and  substantial.  His  head  is  a  splendid  one,  especially 
the  forehead,  which  is  gigantic.  His  eyes  are  beautiful  black, 
and  expressive.  His  face  is  full,  and  his  thoughts  appear  as 
plainly  upon  it  as  if  they  were  written  there.  His  hair  is 
dark,  his  arms  large  and  strong,  and  his  whole  physical  ap- 
pearance prepossessing.  There  was  a  peculiar  look  and  mo- 
tion, an  odd  uneasiness,  which  betokened  eccentricity  in  the 
orator.  When  he  arose  to  read  a  portion  of  Scripture,  there 
was  an  exceeding  awkwardness  in  his  manner.  He  read 
touchingly  a  beautiful  Psalm  ;  his  voice  was  remarkably 
Bweet — at  times  so  femininely  soft,  that  we  were  surprised 


PULPIT    ORATORS.  281 

As  he  read  on,  his  face  grew  radiant  with  smiles,  and  before 
he  was  half  through,  we  wondered  why  wo  never  before  had 
seen  the  exquisite  beauty  if  the  Psalm.  So  it  is  with  genius 
ever — it  not  only  creates  but  discovers  beauty.  This  pulpit 
rator  discovered  wonderful  beauties  in  what  he  read,  and 
pointed  them  out  to  his  hearers.  Then  he  quietly  closed  the 
volume,  and  said  in  almost  a  whisper,  "  Let  us  pray,"  It 
was  a  short,  opening  prayer,  but  was  full  of  touching  fervor. 
His  face,  which  is  at  all  times  exceedingly  expressive,  now 
looked  as  if  heaven  were  dawning  upon  it.  Now  sunny  and 
summery  as  a  morning  of  June,  and  then  suddenly  changing 
to  gloom  and  sorrowfulness.  No^v  expressive  of  a  childlike 
faith,  and  a^ain  bursting  into  the  daring  of  a  nian's  trust. 
Wow  quivering  with  pathos,  with  tears  beaded  on  his  eyelids, 
then  suddenly  bursting  into  a  holy  smile — it  was  strange. 
The  audience  was  hushed  as  the  grave  ;  not  a  cough,  not  a 
loud  breath  disturbed  the  s'lence,  until  the  prayer  was  ended, 
when  there  was  a  storm  of  coughing  and  clearing  of  throat©. 
At  last— -after  the  singing — the  preacher  arose,  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  and  with  many  awkward  movements,  commenced 
his  sermon.  There  was  something  of  drollery  in  his  first  few 
sentences,  both  in  sentiment  and  expression,  but  it  was  clearly 
not  affected.  So  on  he  went,  preaching  a  good  sermon,  using 
fine  language,  but  we  were  not  entranced  or  stirred  up  by  hig 
eloquence'T  We  were  concluding  that  we  were  disappointed^ 
and  buttoning  up  our  coat  ready  for  returning  home,  thinking 
the  service  near  its  end,  when  without  the  slightest  premo- 
nition, the  reverend  orator  burst  into  one  of  the  most  brilliant, 
thrilling,  burning  perorations  we  ever  heard.  His  face 
beamed  with  a  holy  light  ;  his  words  gushed  forth  fountain- 
like, brilliant,  striking,  and  beautiful.  At  first  his  eloquence 
was  almost  agonizing  ;  it  was  so  fervid,  so  tremendous  in  ita 
effects.  The  power  of  his  oratory  was  vast,  and  it  swept 
over  his  audience  like  a  tornado.     We  were  taken  by  sur- 


282  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

prise — it  came  upon  us  like  a  storm  of  lightning  and  thunder  ; 
but  soon  there  was  a  clearing  off",  and  the  sun  came  out  clear 
and  calm,  and  gloriously  beautiful.  At  first  his  face  and 
manner  had  been  dark  and  repulsive,  but  now  tears  dropped 
from  his  eyes,  and  gems  of  beauty  and  sweetness  from  his  lips, 
and  his  audience,  though  used  to  him,  leaned  forward  and 
wept  like  children. 

Mr.  Binney  was  born  at  New-Castle-upon-Tyne,  and  was 
first  settled  at  Newport,  in  the  Isle  of  Wight,  but  afterwards 
removed  to  the  Weigh  House  Chapel,  in  London.  A  few 
years  ago  ho  lost  his  wile  by  death,  and  for  a  long  time  after, 
his  health  was  miserable  from  melancholy.  During  this  time 
he  visited  America,  resuscitated  his  drooping  health  and 
spirits,  married  a  second  time,  and  is  now  the  most  popular 
pulpit  orator  in  London.  In  conversation  he  is  agreeable  ; 
though  when  we  saw  him  he  was  bitter  in  some  of  his  refer- 
ences to  America,  principally  because  of  her  "  temperance 
bigotry,"  and  her  "  pro-slavery  opinions."  The  reason  of  the 
former  remark  is,  that  Mr.  Binney,  though  an  excellent  man. 
is  fond  of  his  wine  I 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


WESTMINSTER    ABBEY. 


We  know  that  this  is  a  trite  subject — Westminster  Abbey  ! 
How  many  pens  have  written  in  its  praise,  and  how  many 
are  destined  yet  to  write  I  But  it  is  a  subject  that  will  never 
grow  old,  however  much  written  upon — the  grand  burial- 
place  of  England's  kings,  and  warriors,  and  poets  I  For 
royalty,  and  especially  dead  and  buried  royalty,  we  have 
little  admiration,  and  we  confess  it ;  for  warriors  unless  they 
fought  for  freedom  and  right,  we  have  also  little  respect. 
But  for  the  poets  of  our  motherland;  for  Shakspeare,  for 
Milton,  for  Chaucer  and  Spenser,  for  "  rare  Ben  Jonson'' 
and  Cowley,  and  many  others,  we  do  indulge  an  admiration 
which  we  render  to  few  other  names.  And  then  there  are 
great  statesmen,  side  by  side  in  the  Abbey — Fox  and  Sheridan, 
Pitt,  and  Chatham,  and  Canning  I  What  heart  ever  was  in 
the  great  and  solemn  aisles  of  the  Abbey,  in  sight  of  the  Earl 
of  Chatham's  tomb,  and  did  not  quiver  with  a  solemn  delight? 
What  American  ever  stood  there  without  thinking  how  once 
he  stood  up  in  the  House  of  Lords — only  a  few  rods  distant 
— and  poured  forth  his  thrilling  eloquence  in  defence  of  our 
native  land,  without  remembering  his  "  You  cannot  conquer 
America  /"  spoken  prophetically  in  the  ears  of  the  mad 
dotards  assembled  ? 

As  a  piece  of  architecture  the  Abbey  is  magnificent  and 
beautiful.     It  is  built  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  and  its  length 


284  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

from  east  to  west  is  over  four  hundred  feet — from  north  to 
south  two  hundred.  The  towers,  which  rise  gracefully  on  its 
west  end,  are  each  two  hundred  and  twenly-five  feet  in  height. 
To  look  at  it  from  the  adjoining  park  through  the  leaves  of 
he  trees,  is  an  exquisite  sight,  and  more  than  once  have  we, 
m  summer  days,  stood  in  the  shade  of  some  beautiful  tree,  and 
gazing  at  the  noble  and  aged  structure,  indulged  in  delicious 
thoughts  of  its  age,  and  the  kings  who  built  it,  and  then  de- 
molished it,  and  again  rebuilt  it  in  its  present  form.  We  have 
thought  too  of  the  names  engraved  on  marble  there  ;  the  great 
kings  who  commanded  armies,  and  whose  voices  made  millions 
tremble  ;  of  the  thousands  who  fought  and  bled  for  liberty, 
and  others  still  wdio  fought  against  freedom  for  the  sake  of 
honor  and  the  smiles  of  a  sovereign  ;  of  the  brave  statesmen 
who  lived 

"  In  the  brave  days  of  old," 

and  wrestled  valiantly,  some  for  country  and  home  and  liberty, 
and  others,  who,  to  build  up  themselves,  brought  misery  upon 
the  nation — like  Pitt,  the  younger,  whose  brilliance  we  all 
admire,  but  whose  statesmanship  is  now  visible  in  the  awful 
debt  which  hangs  about  the  neck  of  England.  '  And  then 
there  were,  last  but  not  least,  the  glorious  constellation  of 
poets,  in  "  the  Foets'  Corner  I"  There  was  something  grand 
too,  while  gazing  at  the  Abbey,  in  the  thought  that  when. 
America  was  one  wild  wilderness,  this  structure  was  here  as 
it  is  now  ;  the  very,  bleak  day  on  which  the  Pilgrim  Fatherb 

"  Moored  their  bark 
On  the  wild  New  England  shore," 

there  were  people  who  stood  inside  the  walls  of  Westminster 
Abbey,  and  pondered  over  this  wonderful  age  !  For  then  a 
thousand  years  had  rolled  away  since  Lucius,  the  first  king 
of  Britain,   erected   a  chapel   on    the    spot,   which  was   the 


WESTMINSTER    Ai^xiiiii'.  285 

beginning  of  the  present  splendid  structure.  Then,  as  now, 
pilgrims  from  afar  knelt  at  its  altars,  and  said  in  their  hearts 
— "  How  many  ages  have  come  and  gone,  since  npon  this 
spot,  for  the  first  time.  Christian  pra3'ers  were  said.  How 
many  generations  have  lived  and  died,  and  yet  we  behold  it 
with  our  eyes — it  lives  yet  I" 

And  since  then  have  generations  appeared  npon  the  face 
t  the  earth,  and  passed  away  to  make  room  for  succeeding 
o  ;es,  which  have  likewise  gone  down  silently  into  the  grave. 
It  seems  as  if  that  structure  were  unlike  anything  else  in  the 
world.  Time  it  laughs  at,  and  like  mother  earth  it  grows 
beautiful  with  age  ! 

We  started  one  afternoon  with  an  English  friend  to  visit 
the  House  of  Commons,  armed  with  member's  orders,  but 
owing  to  an  exciting  discussion,  found  the  gallery  full,  and 
we  could  not  be  admitted.  Seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to 
hear  the  debate,  our  friend  said — 

"  Let  us  go  and  see  the  Abbey — this  beautiful  western  sun 
will  throw  enchantment  over  the  marbles  of  the  great,  there  !" 

We  entered  by  a  northern  transept,  and  were  almost  trans- 
fixed by  the  wondrous  vision  which  burst  upon  our  sight. 
The  great  and  solemn  aisles,  the  lofty  arches  and  ceilings 
were  gilded  with  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  for  the  sun  poured 
a  flood  of  light  into  the  great  windov^^s  on  the  western  side  of 
the  Abbey,  and  they  were  painted  in  every  color,  and  in  eveiy 
form  that  artistic  skill  could  invent. 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  Poets'  Corner  I"  That  is  the  spot  where 
people  always  go  first.  Kings  and  warriors — they  are  forgotten 
where  a  Shakspeare  lies.  And  the  first  monument  which  w 
gazed  at  was  Shakspeare's  I  How  often  had  we  longed  fof 
this  moment  of  exquisite  enjoyment,  for  though  the  ashes  of 
the  poet  were  never  disturbed  from  their  quiet  slumber  on  the 
side  of  the  gentle  Avon,  yet  in  the  very  spot  where  we  stood, 
once  stood  the  great  dramatist — the  prince  of  poets      And 


286  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Pope  stood  there  when  they  asked  him  if  he  would  write  an 
epitaph  for  the  monument,  and  he  answered — 

«'  No — I  cannot  write  it.  I  cannot  praise  Shakspeare  ' 
Take  his  own  lines." 

And  there  before  us  we  read  the  epitaph  which  his  own 
fingers  wrote — those  lines  which  often  have  thrilled  the  world. 

"  The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision. 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind." 

True,  oh  !  wondrous  poet — but  until  "  the  great  globe  itsel' 
shall  dissolve,"  thy  name  shall  live  and  be  glorified.  Weh 
did  Ben  Jonson  write  of  Shakspeare  : 

"  Thou  art  a  monument,  without  a  tomb; 
And  art  alive  still,  while  thy  book  doth  live, 
And  we  have  wits  to  read,  and  praise  to  give." 

Every  year  a  "Shakspeare  Festival"  is  given  by  the  pro- 
fessed friends  of  the  poet  at  Stratford-on-Avon  ;  every  day 
some  pilgrim  from  afar,  comes  to  write  his  name  on  the  walls 
of  the  old  house  in  which  he  lived  with  his  gentle  Anne 
Hathaway.  But  there  are  no  precious  relics  of  him  for  the 
antiquarian  to  hoard  up  for  future  generations,  yet  there  is  a 
way  in  which  the  world  can  show  its  respect  and  admiration 
of  the  great  dramatist,  better  than  by  weeping  over  his  monu- 
ment, or  eating  dinners  to  his  memory.  There  is  a  descendant 
of  the  family  living  in  poverty  at  Stratford.  It  is  a  boy,  and 
he  is  so  like  the  poet  in  his  physical  features,  that  William 
Howitt  picked  him  out  from  all  his  school-fellows  as  the 
descendant  of  the  dramatist.  His  name  is  "  Bill  Shakspeare,"" 
and,  said  Mr.  Howitt  to  us  one  day,  "  It  sounded  strange  to  me 
to  hear  the  boys  calling  out,  "  Hallo  !  Bill  Shakspeare  '"  to  a 


WESTMINSTER    ABBEY.  287 

ragged  urchin,  whose  flice  and  brow  were  wonderfully  like 
those  of  the  great  poet's  I" 

If  the  English  nobles  and  literary  lions,  instead  of  making 
such  a  parade  at  Stratford  every  year,  would  give  "  Bill 
Shakspeare"  a  fine  education,  and  a  fair  chance  to  developo 
what  genius  he  may  have  inherited,  it  would,  so  it  seems  to 
us,  better  show  their  love  for  the  immortal  Shakspeare.  It 
was  a  long  time  before  the  old  house,  which  was  once  the 
poet's  home,  was  bought  and  paid  for,  but  through  the  severe 
exertions  of  several  noted  literary  gentlemen  the  valuable 
relic  has  been  secured  to  the  lovers  of  poetry. 

Not  far  from  Shakspeare's  monument  there  is  another,  that 

of  Shakspeare's  best  friend.     The  epitaph  is  Shakspeare's — 
s 

*'  0  RARE  Ben  Jonson  I' 

He  was  Shakspeare's  intimate  companion,  joked  with  him 
many  a  time  over  a  cup  of  wine,  and  was,  while  Shakspeare 
lived,  jealous  of  his  wonderful  fame.  But  when  he  had 
dropped  tears  over  his  new-made  grave  at  Stratford,  on  the 
river  Avon,  in  his  mournfulness  he  sung — 

"  Sweet  swan  of  Avon  !  what  a  sight  it  were 
To  see  thee  in  our  waters  yet  appear  ! 
But  stay  !  I  see  thee  in  the  hemisphere 
Advanced,  and  made  a  constellation  there  : 
Shine  forth,  thou  Star  of  Poets  !" 

Now,  one  half  of  Ben  Jonson's  fame  consists  in  his  asso- 
ciation with  Shakspeare,  and  his  praise  of  him  when  others 
were  asleep  to  his  merits.  The  two  m.onuments  are  not  far 
apart,  and  it  is  well  that  such  "  hale  friends"  should  not  be 
parted  in  death  I 

As  the  sun  went  down  among  the  trees  west  of  the  Abbey, 
and  the  steeples  and  towers,  the  light  became  solemn  and 
chaster  upon  the  graves  of  the  poets,  and  our  hearts  grew 


288  WHAT  I  SAW  in  london, 

sad.Ier  too.  Passing  on  a  little,  we  came  in  sight  of  Mil  ion's 
monument — the  grave  of  the  splendid  and  brilliant  Milton  : 
the  poet,  the  chaste  prose-writer,  and  the  fearless  repubhcan 
and  democrat  I  Here  now,  like  a  king  in  state,  he  lies,  the 
blind  poet,  while  the  king  whose  jackals  persecuted  hirn. 
eloepG  alone,  with  no  tears  ever  moistening  the  m.arble  above 
his  bones.  Here  lies  he  now,  the  author  of  "  Paradise  Lost," 
in  g!ory  on  earth,  and  glorious,  we  may  believe,  in  heaven. 
He  could  afford  to  suffer  while  here  for  such  an  inheritance. 
The  "  five  pounds  sterling,"  paid  in  three  instalments,  which 
he  got  for  his  poem,  was  not  all — the  fame  and  love  of  th3 
wo/ld  to  its  final  annihilation  was  his  also!  He  died  poor, 
like  too  many  of  earth's  brightest  sons  of  Genius,  and  ief; 
three  daughters  for  the  English  nation  to  cherish — alas  !  foi 
the  fate  of  poets'  daughters  in  thin  world ! 

Not  far  off^  from  Milton's  tablet  sleeps  the  first,  the  earliest 
poet  of  England — Geoffi-ey  Chaucer.  He  died  over  four  hun- 
dred years  ago.  His  monun^ent  was  once  a  beautiful  Gothic 
one,  but  Time  has  made  sad  inroads  into  its  beauty,  and  the 
inscription  upon  it  is  fast  being  effaced.  Close  at  hand  is  the 
grave  of  Butler,  the  author  of  Hudibras,  whom  the  English 
nation  left  to  starve,  and  when  he  was  starved,  made  him  a 
grave  by  the  side  of  kings  !  A  Lord  Mayor  of  London  erect- 
ed his  tombstone,  and  gives  his  reasons  for  so  doing  upon  the 
marble  in  the  following  expressive  words  : 

"  That'  he.  icho  ivas  destitute  of  all  things  -when  alive, 
might  not  want  a  monument  ivhen  deadP 

Near  to  Milton's  tomb  is  the  tablet  erected  in  memory  of 
Gray,  and  upon  it  is  this  inscription  : 

"  No  more  the  Grecian  Muse  unrivalled  reigns, 
To  Britai  i  let  the  nations  homage  pay  ; 
She  felt  a  Homer's  fire  in  Milton's  strains, 
A  Pindar'd  rapture  in  the  lyre  of  Gray." 


WESTMINSTER     VBBEY.  289 

We  looked  everywhere  to  see  Byron's  grave — but  looked  in 
vain.  Then  wo  remembered  how  Macaulay  says  in  his  fine 
essay  on  the  proud,  sad  poet,  that  the  tears  came  to  the  eyes 
of  the  nation  w^ien  they  saw  the  corpse  of  the  great  poet  go 
past  Westminster  Abbey.  He  should  have  his  niche  in  the 
Poets'  Corner  I  It  reminded  us  of  Chatterton's  fate.  Some 
admirer  of  his  genius  had  erected  in  beautiful  Uedcliffe 
Church  in  Bristol— the  church  in  which  he  used  to  wander 
when  young,  and  where  he  forged  the  Rowley  poems — a 
slight  monument  to  his  memory,  but  a  few  years  ago  the  peo- 
ple of  Bristol,  who  attended  the  church,  upon  "  second,  sober 
thought,"  which  told  them  he  was  a  suicide,  deliberately  tore 
down  the  monument,  to  their  disgrace  in  the  eyes  of  the  civil- 
ized world. 

Below  Butler's  monument,  "  Faery  (iueene"  Spenser  sleeps, 
and  the  inscription  on  his  tombstone  is  a  beautiful  one — it  is 
as  follows  : 

"  Here  lies  (expecting  the  second  coming  of  our  Saviour 
Jesus  Christ)  the  body  of  Edmund  Spenser,  the  Prince  of 
Poets  in  his  time,  whose  divine  spirit  needs  no  other  witness 
than  the  works  which  he  has  left  behind  him.  He  was  born 
in  London  1553,  and  died  in  1598." 

He  has  been  dead  two  and  a  half  centuries,  and  yet  his 
genius  shines  brighter  than  it  did  on  the  day  of  his  death  ! 

There  was  one  epitaph  in  the  Poets'  Corner  which  shocked 
us,  as  it  does  everybody, — it  is  on  the  tomb  of  John  Gay,  and 
was  written  by  himself     It  is  as  follows  : 

"  Life  is  a  jest,  and  all  things  show  it: 
I  thought  so  once,  and  now  I  know  it  " 

Not  far  from  this  shocking  epitaph  is  the  grave  of  the  au- 
thor of  "  The  Seasons"— James  Thomson.     And  at  one  side 
M  19 


290  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

is  a  name  on  a  pretty  marble  tablet,  over  which  we  bent  iii 
sweet  solitude — that  of  Goldsmith. 

Joseph  Addison  has  a  fine  statue,  and  engraved  upon  it  are 
.he  words — 

"  Venerate  the  memory  of  Joseph  Addison  " 

Isaac  Ballou — the  chaplain  of  Charles  11. — the  poet,  lies 
close  at  hand,  and  there  are  many  who  stop  before  his  monu- 
ment. And  here  is  the  grave  of  Granville  Sharp,  whom  all 
good  men  love  and  will  love  as  long  as  the  world  lasts. 

Perhaps  one  of  the  finest  monuments  in  the  whole  collec- 
tion is  that  of  Handel's.  It  was  the  last  that  Uoubiliac  ever 
executed.  An  angel  is  playing  on  a  harp  in  the  clouds  above, 
and  the  statue  is  gazing  up  at  the  melody  as  if  entranced. 
Before  it  lies  open  the  Messiah,  at  the  page  which  commen- 
ces the  solemn  and  sublime  air,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer 
livethy     The  only  additional  inscription  is  this  : 

"  George  Frederick  Handel,  Esq..  born  Feb.  23,  1684 ; 
died  April  14,  1769.' 

Some  distance  from  this  we  saw — 

*'  To  the  memory  of  David  Garrick," 

the  great  tragedian,  a  fine  tablet. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton  has  a  splendid  monument,  and  upon  it 
is  this  inscription  . 

"  Mortals  have  reason  to  exult  in  the  existence  of  so  noble 
an  ornament  to  the  human  race." 

How  very  true  I  When  such  a  man  exists,  the  world 
ought  to  be  proud  of  him.  The  country  which  gave  him 
birth  need  not  alone  selfishly  boast  of  his  greatness,  for  all 
jatious  share  in  it. 


WESTMINSTER    ABBEY.  291 

And  now  we  come  to  the  little  cluster  of  statesmen  of  tht 
past  century.  Within  a  few  feet  of  each  other  lie  six  of  the 
greatest  men  the  world  has  ever  seen — the  Earl  of  Chatham, 
William  Pitt,  Charles  James  Fox,  Gratlan,  Canning,  and 
Sheridan  I  We  could  stand  with  one  foot  on  the  grave  of 
Pitt  and  the  other  on  that  of  Fox,  and  yet  in  their  lives  what 
wondrous  enemies!  How  year  after  year  did  each  devote  hi& 
mighty  talents  for  the  overthrow  of  tlie  other — and  here  now 
they  lie  side  by  side  I  As  we  stood  over  the  grave  of  Fitt, 
we  thought  of  him  in  his  manly  prime,  with  his  dark  eyes 
flashing  fire,  and  his  black  hair  contrasting  splendidly  with 
the  marble  of  his  brow.  How  he  fought  and  struggled  and 
squandered  the  people's  money  for  the  sake  of  greatness  ! 
Ah  !  he  was  in  the  cabinet  too  much  like  Napoleon  in  the 
field — too  ready  to  sacrifice  the  people  to  his  ambition.  And 
Charles  James  Fox  whom  he  feared,  lies  close  at  his  side ! 
And  Sheridan  too  is  there — that  mighty  genms  wno  could 
hold  a  nation  in  tears  and  laughter  at  his  splendid  strokes  of 
oratory  ;  whose  wit  was  quick  as  the  lightning,  and  yet  never 
rankled  and  stung  because  of  his  nobleness  of  chaiacter ;  the 
man  who,  though  godlike  in  frame  and  spirit,  yet  debased  him- 
self to  a  level  with  the  brutes,  and  fell  into  a  drunkard's  grave. 

And  Canning :  the  statesman  who  died  of  a  broken  heart. 
His  most  intimate  friends  assert  that  his  death  was  occasioned 
by  the  terrible  attacks  made  on  him  by  those  wliom  he  once 
loved.  Whatever  his  faults  of  statesmanship  were,  h«  was  a 
splendid  man  and  a  genius.  What  a  thrilling  time  was  that, 
when  Brougham  in  Parliament  made  his  renowned  attack  on 
Canning,  which  called  the  great  statesman  to  his  feet  with 
the  hot  cry — 

"  It  is  false  I" 

Not  long  after  these  terrible  attacks  he  died,  and  now  he 
sleeps  within  the  solemn  walls  of  the  Abbey— and  "sleeoB 
weU/' 


292  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Over  the  great  Earl  of  Chatham's  grave  we  bent  with 
pride  ami  a  feeling  of  gratefulness,  for  he  was  once  America's 
advocate  against  a  band  of  oppressors.  We  thought,  while 
we  stood  there,  of  the  time  when  he  came,  as  it  were  in  his 
^'inding-sheet  into  the  House  of  Lords,  to  cxpostniate  with 
hem  on  the  mad  course  pursued  by  them  towards  their  col- 
onies in  the  New  World,  and  during  his  noble  speech  fel' 
back  into  the  arms  of  his  attendant  a  dying  man  I  America, 
at  the  time  of  her  Revolution,  had  many  attached  friends  in 
England,  who  at  heart,  if  not  openly,  applauded  her  spirit  of 
independence.  There  were  men  who  dared  to  defend  Amer- 
ica in  public,  and  the  masses  of  the  2^coj)le  sympathized  with 
us  during  our  struggle.  We  should  remember  this  when,  we 
are  inclined  to  indulge  in  sentiments  of  hate  towards  England 
because  of  her  war  against  America. 

Among  the  monuments  to  warriors  in  the  Abbey,  there  was 
one  over  which  we  bent  in  sadness,  and  it  was  that  of  John 
Andre.  George  III.  erected  the  monument,  and  it  is  a  fine  one. 
The  inscription  tells  of  his  unfortunate  death  in  America,  and 
a  scroll  which  he  holds  in  his  left  hand  contains  Andre's  let- 
ter to  Washington,  begging  the  privilege  of  being  shot  instead 
3f  hung.  Still  we  did  not  forget  Nathan  Hale,  when  over 
the  grave  of  Andre. 

We  have  said  nothing  of  the  royal  tombs  in  Westminster 
Abbey,  feeling  but  httle  interest  in  them,  and  concluding  that 
tae  feauer  will  readuy  pardon  us  lor  the  omission. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MEN    AND    THINaS. 

SPENCER    T.    HALL 

Mr.  Hall  owes  his  fame  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  princi- 
pally to  his  success  in  the  science  of  mesmerism — it  is  not 
generally  known  that  he  has  achieved  a  moderate  reputation 
in  England,  for  verse-writing.  We  saw  him  first  at  the 
bookstore  of  a  mutual  friend,  and  were  struck  with  his  physi- 
ognomy, at  once.  He  is  rather  tall  than  otherwise,  with  a 
fresh  countenance.  His  forehead  is  capacious  almost  to  de- 
formity, in  the  region  of  the  perceptive  organs.  His  hair  is 
of  a  light  auburn,  and  his  eyes  of  a  hazel  that  sometimes, 
when  illumined,  you  cannot  distinguish  from  black.  His  nose 
has  a  twist  to  one  side,  which,  though  slight,  mars  the  ap- 
pearance of  his  face. 

He  was  born  Dec.  16th,  1812,  in  a  little  thatched  cottage 
n  the  banks  of  a  rivulet  near  the  village  of  Sutton,  in  Ash» 
field.  This  country  village  lies  only  a  mile  from  the  celebra- 
ted Robin  Hood  hills,  in  Sherwood  Forest.  This  forest  origi- 
nally comprised  90,000  acres  of  land,  covered  with  old  oak 
woods,  tinkling  streams,  and  high  hills,  and  low  valleys.  At 
the  time  of  his  birth,  about  one  third  of  it  had  been  enclosed, 
and  brought  under  the  subjection  of  the  plough — the  remain- 
ing two  thirds  being  open  to  the  hunter  and  shepherd.  Born 
with  a  great  love  for  nature,  here  was  the  finest  opportunity 


294  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

to  gratify  and  cultivate  that  love,  and  the  boy  spent  many 
days  here  when  released  from  the  toil  of  the  manufactory  at 
A-shfield.  His  ancestors,  on  his  father's  side,  were  foresters — 
his  mother  was  a  shepherdess  and  dairy-maid  when  young, 
among  the  mountains  of  Derbyshire.  His  parents  weie 
Friends,  and  their  teachings  are  apparent  in  Mr.  Hall's  in- 
tegrity and  love  of  the  gentler  attributes  of  humanity.  Hii 
father  was  a  poor  shoemaker,  and  could  ill  afford  to  send  him 
to  school.  Yet  he  was  determined  that  Spencer  should  know 
how  to  read,  and  so  he  posted  up  conspicuously  in  his  work- 
shop the  letters  of  the  alphabet,  and  while  at  work  taught  his 
hoy  their  different  powers.  When  he  was  seven  years  old, 
he  went  at  work  in  the  marmfactory  at  Ashfield,  his  employ- 
ment being  to  wind  cotton  for  the  stocking-makers.  At 
eleven  he  made  stockings  himself,  and  did  the  full  work  of  a 
man.  In  one  of  his  volumes  he  has  described  the  first  devel- 
opments of  poetry  in  his  mind.     He  says  : — 

"  The  first  deep  poetical  impression  I  recollect  receiving, 
was  when  so  young  that  my  father  was  carrying  me  in  his 
arms.  It  was  from  seeing  the  fields  all  covered  with  white, 
and  in  a  breezeless  morning,  the  snow  falling  slowly  and  sol- 
emnly, flake  by  flake,  from  a  calm  dim  sky  upon  them.  This 
was  the  early  awakening  of  my  mind  to  the  sublimity  of  sim- 
ple and  common  nature,  which,  because  it  is  simple  and  com- 
mon, we  so  little  perceive  and  enjoy,  I  once  received  another 
impression  akin  to  this,  but  from  different  causes.  It  was  one 
bright  February  morning,  when  I  was  seven  or  eight  years 
old,  in  a  lane  at  Fulwood,  about  a  mile  from  Sutton.  The 
whole  landscape  was  sparkling  with  gems  of  frozen  dew — not 
hoar  frost,  but  that  bright  powdery  scattering  which  is  next 
akin  to  it.  A  little  cluster  of  rustic  cottages  was  sending  up 
light  curling  smoke-wreaths  just  by,  and  a  green  holly-bush, 
the  only  green  object  to  be  seen,  was  sweetly  glowing  at  a 
bend  of  the  lane  beyond  them,  making  me  i'eel  as  if  by  step- 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  291) 

pino;  as  far,  I  should  be  all  that  nearer  to  the  coming  spring 
Well,  it  is  a  vevy  wide  landscape  that  spreads  away  from  that 
spot  cut  into  diamonds  by  hedge-rows,  and  dotted  Avilh  cot- 
tages, farms,  churches,  villages,  corn-stacks,  windmills,  villas, 
and  all  the  other  indications  oT  quiet  rural  life,  up  to  where 
the  North  Peak  of  Derbyshire  brings  its  blue  hills  in  a  st  mi- 
circle,  and  hems  in  the  prospect.  All  this,  in  the  sunshine, 
was  very  delicious  ;  and  quietly  pondering  over  it,  the  love 
,  f  rural  beauty  bewitched  my  heart,  almost  like  the  sweet 
and  silent  joy  of  the  love  of  a  young  maiden.  The  bowery 
and  streamy  haunts,  too,  of  Brookhill,  which  I  often  linger,  d 
at  and  looked  into,  but  could  not  then  enter,  v/ould  feed  my 
childish  soul  with  wonder  and  gladness — and  such,  with  me, 
was  the  beginning  of  poetry." 

His  neighbors  were  kind,  and  lent  him  books,  and  gradually 
he  grew  from  a  weak  boy  into  a  strong-minded,  yet  very  mod- 
est young  man.  When  he  was  fifteen,  a  kind  neighbor  lent 
him  the  life  and  works  of  Dr.  Franklin.  He  studied  them 
closely,  read  and  re-read  them,  and  became  restless.  It  was 
the  restlessness  of  genius.  He  could  not  remain  contented,  a 
simple,  lowly,  stocking- weaver  ;  so  one  morning,  just  after  his 
sixteenth  birth-day,  he  packed  up  his  few  books,  an  extra 
shirt,  and  a  single  pair  of  stockings,  and  ran  away.  All  the 
money  that  he  possessed  in  the  world  was  13  pence,  or  26 
cents.  The  village  evening  lights  were  burning,  as  he  es- 
caped— on  he  trudged  till  ten  o'clock,  and  then  for  a  little 
supper  and  a  bed,  he  paid  his  13  pence.  The  next- day  was 
a  cold  one,  and  he  subsisted  on  a  frozen,  turnip,  and  slept  at 
night  upon  the  cold  floor  of  a  workshop.  The  following 
morning  he  arrived  at  IsTottingham,  went  to  the  office  of  one 
of  the  principal  papers,  offered  himself  as  an  apprentice  to  the 
printer's  trade,  and  was  accepted.  During  the  first  year  he 
worked  hard,  and  lived  upon  the  coarsest  food,  and  in  his 
leisure  hours  he  studied  incessantly.     At  the  commencement 


296  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

of  the  second,  his  employer  took  him  into  his  own  house,  and 
made  him  his  confidential  assistant.  About  this  time,  he 
accidentally  met  a  volume  of  Bloomfield's  Poems,  and  to  him 
they  opened  a  world  of  beauty  and  pleasure.  His  first  poem 
was  a  description  of  Clifton  Grove,  the  favorite  haunt  of  Henry 
Kirke  White.  In  his  eighteenth  year  he  had  acquired  quite 
a  reputation  in  Nottingham,  and  was  styled  "  the  young 
Quaker  of  the  Mercury  ojfice!''  He  was  favored  with  tho 
society  of  William  Howitt,  who  was  at  this  time  an  Alder- 
man in  Nottingham,  and  Eobert  Witter,  the  poet,  and  other 
distinguished  characters.  When  twenty  years  of  age,  he  he- 
came  a  contributor  to  the  Mirror  and  Metropolitan  Maga- 
zine, and  was  fast  acquiring  a  reputation.  V/hen  his  ap- 
prenticeship had  expired,  he  took  charge  of  a  large  printing 
estabhshment  in  York,  and  published  a  small  volume  of  poetry 
entitled  "  The  Forester's  Offering."  Previous  to  this  he 
had  often  been  called  •'  The  Sherwood  Forester "  His 
poetry  is  quiet  and  soothing,  and  he  never  attempL  the  im- 
petuous or  grand.  It  is  simplicity  itself,  yet  none  'he  les? 
pleasing,  tiere  are  a  few  of  his  verses,  descriptive  0/  is  boy 
hood  and  parents  : 

"  Oft,  too,  would  they  describe  my  country's  porta, 

Crowded  with  gallant  ships  from  every  clime — 
Her  smiling  palaces,  and  frowning  forts — 

Whate'er  of  her  was  beauteous  or  sublime, 

The  fruit  of  modern  taste,  or  ancient  time 
From  domes  renlote,  that  through  dark  woodlauds  rise. 

To  cities  crowned  with  spires  that  proudly  clirab 
And  flash  tlie  sunlight  back  through  summer  skies — 
Until  my  young  soul  swelled  with  gladness  and  surj/*"!**- 

And  much  I  wished,  as  in  my  mind  would  grow 

A  sense  of  Britain's  grandeur  and  her  might, 
That  in  her  sons  a  warm  desire  might  glow 

To  use  their  matchless  strength  and  skill  aright, 

And  in  the  ways  of  love  and  truth  delight . 


MET?    AND    THINGS.  29"? 

For  oh,  an  early  consciousness  was  mine 

That  power  misguided  operates  but  to  blight 
All  that  is  glorious,  beautiful  benign, 
And  glooms  with  woe  a  world  which  else  in  bliss  might  shine ' 

***** 
And  not  for  love  alone  of  song  or  story, 

Or  youth's  delicious  dream,  or  childhood's  glee, 
But  of  the  simpler,  yet  subliraer  glory 

Of  Truth's  pure  teachings,  here  fii'st  known  to  me, 

Grows  glad  my  soul,  dear  native  cot,  in  thee ; 
And  thought  and  feeling  in  deep  reverence  bend. 

Whilst  now  I  bare  my  head  and  bow  my  knee 
To  Him  from  whom  all  truth  and  light  extend— 
Whose  throne  is  in  the  heart,  whose  kingdom  has  no  end 

And  how  beautiful  is  this  description  of  his  story-telhng 
*ould  mither" — 

'•'  The  birds  on  Bonsall  Leas'  sang  in  thy  song ; 

The  flowers  of  Wirksworth  Moor  bloomed  in  thy  tale  j 
In  thy  descriptions,  crags  o'er  Derwent  hang 

In  awe  to  hear  it  roar  through  Matlock  Dale ; — 

Plain^  at  thy  word,  I  saw  the  clouds^all  pale 
Roll  silent  o'er  gray  Barrowledge's  side  ; 

And,  0  !  how  well  in  mystery  could'st  thou  veil 
Those  deeds  of  other  times  that  dimly  hide 
Where  ancient  woods  frown  down  from  Dunsley's  lofty  side !" 

When  his  first  volume  was  published,  Leigh  Hunt  wrote  a 
flattering  letter  to  him,  and  Montgomery  told  him  that  he 
read  the  whole  at  one  sitting,  so  pleased  was  he  with  its  con- 
tents. He  now  was  appointed  to  the  vacant  Governorship 
of  Hallis  Hospital,  a  philanthropic  and  educational  institution 
of  York.  While  here  he  published  a  volume  of  prose,  which 
met  with  a  kind  reception  from  the  public. 

And  now  it  was  that  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  science 
of  mesmerism.  He  soon  wrought  astonishing  experiments, 
and  all  Britain  was  alive  with  excitement.  He  was  suddenly 
famous.     Harriet  Martineau,  the  writer,  who  had  been  con- 


298  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

fined  three  years  to  her  rooi.i  by  sickness,  was  entirely  cured 
by  Mr  Hall,  through  the  soothing  powers  of  mesmerism.  He 
went  through  all  the  great  cities,  and  thousands  came  to  see 
and  hear  him  as  a  wonder.  He  shrunk  from  such  promi- 
nency, but  there  was  no  retreat  for  him.  At  his  private  con- 
versaziones, such  men  as  Liebig  and  Combe  sat  at  his  feet  as 
pupils.  Of  course  many  opposed  him,  and  some  even  went 
so  far  as  to  throw  odium  upon  his  character,  in  connection 
with  his  cure  of  Miss  Martineau.  This  grieved  his  pure  but 
sensitive  heart.  In  1846,  his  health  failed  him,  and  he  wa? 
obliged  to  relinquish  his  mesmeric  lectures.  He  accepted  the 
high  post  (X  Secretary  to  the  British  Anti-Capital-Punishment 
Society,  for  a  year,  at  the  end  of  which,  his  healm  being  re» 
stored,  he  returned  to  his  favorite  science.  His  present  posi- 
tion is  an  agreeable  one.  He  never  claimed  to  be  a  great 
poet,  nor  is  h^  one.  But  he  has  written  good  poetry  and 
prose,  and  his  stern  energy  is  an  example  to  the  young. 

MR.  MUNTZ. 

Among  the  celebrated  men  of  London,  daring  the  session  of 
Parliament,  we  may  safely  reckon  Mr.  G.  F.  Muntz,  who  sits 
for  Birmingham. 

He  is  not  a  man  of  great  intellect  by  any  means,  but  he  is 
a  man  of  extraordinary  decision  of  character,  of  great  energy 
and  undoubted  honesty  He  always  acts  in  a  straightforward 
manner — there  is  little  of  the  mere  politician  in  his  character  ; 
he  is  too  much  of  a  man  for  that 

As  a  speaker  he  is  not  eloquent,  but  he  has  an  earnestness 
that  makes  every  one  feel  that  he  k?iozcs  what  he  is  saying  is 
true,  and  such  oratory  is  often  more  convincing  .than  what  is 
usually  called  eloquence.  He  never  makes  long  speeches,  but 
says  what  he  has  to  say  in  a  short  space  of  time.  It  is  said, 
that  in  Birmingham  before  a  mass-meetingof  his  congtitueuta 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  299 

he  is  less  orief  and  more  eloquent  ;  we  can  believe  it,  for 
Parliament  has  a  strange  power  in  cooling  the  eloquence  of 
the  mere  orator.  Many  a  powerful  out-door  speaker  has 
gone  to  sit  there,  and  scarcely  ever  opened  his  mouth,  and 
even  then  to  speak  soberly  and  mathematically.  It  would  be 
well  if  our  Congress  were  to  imitate  Parliament  in  this  re- 
spect. As  if  to  guard  against  a  desire  to  make  showy 
speeches,  no  women  are  allowed  to  enter  the  House  or  Gal» 
lery  while  it  is  sitting. 

Mr.  Muntz  is  quiet  in  the  tone  of  his  voice  and  in  gesture, 
and  sits  alone  as  if  he  had  no  friends,  and  (as  is  the  fact)  was 
of  no  party.  In  personal  appearance  he  is  the  most  singular 
man  whom  we  ever  saw.  We  saw  him  first  in  the  street. 
We  saw  a  man  apparently  about  fifty  years  of  age,  walking 
slowly  and  with  heavy  steps  along  the  pavement.  He  wa§ 
about  the  middle  height,  and  possessed  a  beard  of  astonishing 
proportions.  It  was  jet  black  and  completely  covered  the 
lower  portion  of  his  face.  He  is  renowned  for  this  beard. 
It  is  thick  and  long,  and  bushy,  and  as  he  never  has  it  combed 
or  trimmed,  it  gives  him  the  wildness  of  a  derai-gavage. 

He  has  a  fine  forehead  and  brilliant  eyes,  but  his  terrible 
beard  completely  spoils  his  personal  appearance.  It  has  been 
the  laugh  of  England  for  years,  but  he  is  fonder  of  it  than 
ever.  This  is  perhaps  not  in  the  least  strange.  There  are  a 
good  many  people  in  this  world  who  will  not  be  laughed  out 
of  a  thing. 

He  i§  very  strangely  built,  and  is  physically  a  powerful 
man.  His  face  ife  rathei*  sallow  m  complexion,  and  its  gen- 
eral expression  is  one  of  reserve  and  sometimes  of  sadness.  In 
his  dress  he  is  peculiar.  His  pantaloons  are  generally  con- 
structed of  coarse  material,  and  are  broad  and  fiiowing,  and 
in  England,  where  everybody  wears  pantaloons  tight  to  the 
Bkin,  they  have  a  singular  appearance.  He  usually  walki 
with  a  cane,  and  attracts  great  attention. 


300  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

It  is  said  that  upon,  his  first  appearance  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  many  years  ago,  he  excited  more  general  interest 
than  any  other  new  member  for  a  long  time  previous.  He  is 
much  esteemed  in  Birmingham  by  all  classes,  and  deserves  tc 
be,  for  he  is  an  honest  man,  Vv'hich  Pope  says,  is  the  "  noblest 
work  of  God."  He  is  neither  of  the  Joseph  Sturge  Universal 
Suffrage  party,  nor  exactly  a  Chartist,  but  holds  a  number  of 
democratical  opinions,  which  in  England  subject  him  to  a 
good  deal  of  odium. 

There  is  not  such  another  country  in  the  world  where  so 
ciety  and  fashion  sneer  at  radicalism  as  they  do  in  England. 
In  France  you  may  suffer  pains  and  penalties  for  your  ultra- 
isms,  as  they  are  called,  but  the  voice  of  fashion  and  society 
is  not  so  bitterly  against  you.  You  can  reckon  a  host  of  dis- 
tinguished members  of  society  who  hold  your  opinions,  and 
though  Government  persecutes  you,  Society  will  not.  But 
in  England  it  is  otherwise  ;  Government  will  not  touch  you. 
but  in  Society  you  are  handled  as  if  something  terribly  v^il- 
gar  and  unnatural.  Hardly  a  poet  of  renown  in  England 
avows  himself  anywhere  in  favor  of  liberty  in  the  simple 
matter  of  universal  suffrage.  Not  an  author  or  artist  of  re- 
nown dares  acknowledge  himself  a  Chartist.  Radicalism  has  a 
taiiit  for  all  perfumed  gentlemen.  It  is  vulgar  to  help  the  pooj 
unless  you  do  it  in  certain  prescribed  and  fashionable  modes. 
To  avow  yourself  the  friend  of  the  dirty  and  ragged  millions  of 
England,  is  to  lose  your  place  among  gentlemen  of  fashion  ; 
in  fact  it  hurts  you  worse  than  to  be  guilty  of  almost  any  kind 
f  genteel  crime. 

The  women  even  look  coldly  upon  you.  It  is  a  sad  sight 
to  see  a  %coman  without  a  heart  throbbing  wdth  sympathy 
for  the  suffering  of  the  earth.  She  is  not  a  woman  who  is 
entirely  bereft  of  such  sympathies,  but  is  a  mere  fashionable 
plaything,  a  refined  courtesan,  and  has  no  right  to  call  herself 
by  that  holiest  of  all  earthly  names — woman  I     Gentleness, 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  301 

pity,  nobility  of  heart,  are  all  wanting  ;  and  where  these  are 
wanting  in  one  of  the  sex,  who  would  give  anything  for  what 
remains  ? 

SIR  PETER  LAURIE. 

Sir  Peter  Laurie  has  been  for  many  years  almost  di  fixture 
in  the  city  Government  of  London.  To  not  know  him  and 
live  within  forty  miles  of  London  were  about  as  great  a  sin 
of  ignorance  as  not  to  know  something  of  the  antics  of  Lord 
Brougham  in  the  House  of  Lords. 

He  has  been  an  alderman  for  more  than  twenty  years,  is, 
we  believe,  a  bachelor,  has  been  Lord  Mayor,  and  is  one  of 
the  best-humored  men  in  London.  He  is  exceedingly  popular 
as  a  man  and  officer,  notwithstanding  he  is  a  Tory  in  politics. 
One  great  reason  why  he  is  so  popular,  is  because  he  is  so  in- 
veterately  fond  of  a  joke.  While  Lord  Mayor  he  constantly 
indulged  in  his  passion  for  fun,  even  when  on  the  bench,  in. 
his  official  capacity,  and  he  has  such  a  merry,  rubicund  face, 
that  no  one  can  possibly  resist  his  jokes.  Like  very  many 
distinguished  men  in  London  he  is  by  birth  a  Scotchman,  but 
what  is  a  little  stranger  than  that,  he  was  once  a  saddler.  He 
worked  as  a  journeyman  saddler  once,  somewhere  near  Char- 
ing Cross,  with  a  young  m.an  who  afterwards  became  Sir 
Hichard  Birnie.  By  unwearied  industry  as  a  contractor  for 
military  stores  for  the  Government  and  Lidia,  Mr.  Laurie 
amassed  a  large  fortune,  became  known  to  his  fellow-citizens, 
was  elected  alderman,  and  subsequently  Lord  Mayor,  and  was 
knighted  at  the  hands  of  Royalty.  He  was  during  the  days 
of  the  Reform  Bill  a.  liberal,  but  afterwards  became  a  Tory. 
This  change  is  a  stain  upon  his  public  character,  for  it  had  a 
bad  look — as  if  he  deserted  the  people  who  had  raised  him  to 
honor  and  fame,  as  soon  as  the  aristocracy  got  for  him  the 
honor  of  knighthood. 

But  notwithstanding  this  defect  in  his  life,  he  is  a  popular 


302  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

character;  more  perhaps  from  his  great  good-nature  and  wit- 
ticisms than  any  statesmanlike  dignity  of  character.  His  wi* 
is  not  at  all  like  Benjamin  D' Israeli's — the  black-eyed  memhei 
for  Buckinghamshire  has  no  joviality  in  his  wit.  It  cuts  like 
the  frost  of  a  winter  inornmg,  in  Canada,  and  when  he  utters 
his  witticism?  his  eyes  do  smile,  but  in  the  smile  there  is  a 
look  of  savage  triumph  I 

Not  so  is  it  with  Sir  Peter,  for  his  wit  never  hurts.  It  Is 
good-humored  and  only  meant  for  pleasure.  He  has  not  in 
fact  any  of  the  exquisite  intellect  of  B'Israeli,  and  could  not, 
were  he  to  try.  cut  like  him.  He  is  too  much  of  an  alderman, 
and  loves  mock-turtle  too  well. 

He  is  renowned  for  his  examination  of  prisoners,  always 
contriving  to  ferret  out  their  inmost  secrets.  In  this  respect 
he  is  the  equal  of  any  criminal  lawyer  in  London.  He  is 
never  quiet,  in  court  or  out  of  it,  but  is  constantly  moving. 
He  will  jump  from  his  seat,  fold  his  hands  upon  his  breast^ 
then  sit  down,  get  up  again  and  walk,  rest  his  head  upon  his 
hand,  ask  questions  hurriedly  and  yet  acutely,  and  the  stran- 
ger will  conclude  that  he  never  sleeps,  at  least  not  for  an  hour 
at  a  time.  His  face  ever  has  a  gmile  on  it,  so  that  you  are 
constantly  on  the  lookout  for  a  joke,  and  old  as  be  is,  his  joc- 
ularity becomes  him  admirably.  In  religion  he  is  a  member 
of  the  Church  of  England,  but  is  no  bigot, 

In  person  he  is  aldermanic— -about  the  middle  height,  pretty 
well  conditioned,  (was  there  ever  alderman  who  was  not  ?) 
has  a  fine,  large,  open  brow,  an  humorous  countenance,  and 
on  the  whole  looks  hnely  in  his  mellow  old  age. 

He  is  past  sixty  years  of  age,  but  that  is  not  astonishing  in 
a  place  where  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  aged  82,  rides  about 
on  horseback,  hale  and  hearty  ;  and  Lords  Brougham,  Lynd- 
hurst,  Denman,  Campbell,  the  Marquis  of  Lansdownc,  and 
Josoph  Hume,  'sxe  active  as  at  any  period  of  their  lives,  and 
yet  range   from  70  to  80  in  ycara.     By  a  sort  of  universal 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  303 

consent  Sir  Peter  Laurie  is  a  favorite  ;  his  faults  are  over* 
looked  because  of  his  jroodness  of  heart.  We  have  portrayed 
him  to  the  American  reader  as  a  tj^pe  of  a  certain  class  of 
Englishmen.  He  is  a  noted  man  in  London,  though  little 
knoM^i  in  America,  and  indeed  could  not  be — still  though  he 
is  a  lion  o[  no  great  pretensions,  we  hope  to  be  excused  for 
attempting  his  portrait  in  our  humble  work. 

TEMPERANCE. 

The  Temperance  Keform  moves  slowly  in  England,  frorr. 
the  fact  that  the  English  are  eminently  a  social  people,  and 
their  drinking  customs  are  almost  inseparably  connected  in 
the  general  mind  with  their  sociality.  Many,  very  many 
estimable  people  esteem  the  v/ine-cup  as  a  part  of  their 
liO&pitalitVj  and  we  know  of  several  families,  and  distinguished 
ones,  too,  whose  members  "  touch  not,  ta&te  not,"  yet  Vv^hose 
tables  are  always  loaded  with  the  poisonous  beverage,  for  the 
gake  of  guests  who  would  almost  feel  it  an  insult  to  be  inviteJ 
to  dinner  without  wine.  The  most  celebrated  dissenting 
minister  in  London  once  said  to  us  :  "  Yours  w^ould  be  a  fine 
country,  were  it  not  for  Slaverj^  and  the  tyranny  of  Tejiijyer" 
anceT  We  will  not  mention  his  name,  but  he  is  the  most 
talented  preacher  in  London,  as  we  can  testify  by  personal 
e^rperience,  and  his  name  is  familiar  to  the  religious  world. 
He  once  made  a  tour  to  this  country,  incog.,  and  found 
extreme  trouble  in  taking  his  glass  of  wine  in  respectable 
eligious  company.  Perhaps  he  wag  right,  but  the  same  kind 
f  tyranny  frowns  down  licentiousness,  theft  and  murder. 
The  public  advocates  o-f  the  temperance  cause  in  England,  so 
far  as  we  vvere  capable  of  forming  an  opinion,  were  of  the 
second  and  third  orders  of  talent,  and  somewhat  shabby  irt 
general  appearance. — Where  so  much  attention  is  paid  to 
position  and  respectability  a*  in  BTJtain,  great  pains  should  b€? 


304  W^HAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDOK. 

taken  to  secure  advocates  of  position  and  power.  OccasionaJ 
advocates,  like  Joseph  Stnrge,  Robert  Charlton,  and  Henry 
Vincent,  do  the  real  work  among  the  rcsjiectahles,  v/hilo 
Hudson,  Whitaker,  Edwards,  5fc.,  influence  the  lower  classes 

Thomas  Beggs  was  for  some  time  the  leader  in  this  dej  art- 
ment  of  English  reform.,  and  an  abler,  more  thorough  advocate 
of  any  cause,  could  not  be  found  in  any  country.  He  is  the 
English  counterpart  of  Dr.  /ewett,  full  of  facts  and  argumeula- 
tive  eloquence.  But  he  has  quit  the  temperance  field  alto- 
getlier,  whether  from  want  of  support,  or  from  the  want  of 
a  sufficient  numiber  of  respectable  gentlemicn  to  surround  him, 
we  do  not  know,  but  we  do  knov/,  that  to  be  a  temperance 
lecturer,  in  England,  is  to  meet  privations  and  contumely, 
which  here  are  unknown.  Temperance  here  is  popular — 
there  unpopular,  and  so  much  so,  that  hundreds  of  reformers 
in  the  Anti-Slavery,  Anti-State  and  Church,  and  Universa, 
Suffrage  ranks,  continue  in  the  drinking  habits.  Some  of  the 
best  personal  acquaintances  of  ours  in  England,  are  those 
who  taste  the  sparkling  champagne.  Mr.  Beggs,  though 
povv^erful,  is  sometimes  sarcastic  to  eccentricity.  He  once 
went  down  into  the  country  to  lecture,  and  had  for  an 
audience  a  small  collection  of  miserable,  taxed-to-de-ath  work- 
men, who  cheered  him  loudest  when  he  was  the  tamest,  just 
according  to  the  state  of  their  lungs,  and  finally  by  their 
untimely  roars  and  ignorant  cries,  he  became  quite  irritated 
and  provoked,  and  determined  to  say  something  so  pointed 
that  it  should  pierce  their  thick  skulls  ;  so  for  a  peroration  he 
said  Avith  solemnity  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  trust  God  has  forgiven 
me  for  coming  doivn  here  to-night ;  if  so,  I  promise  Him 
never  again  to  do  so  foolish  a  thing  .'"  He  is  now  connected 
with  the  Financial  Reform  Association. 

There  is  not  a  land  under  the  sun  which  needs  a  thorough 
reformation  from  intemperance  so  badly  as  Great  Britain. 
France,  Russia,  Austria,  Prussia  or  Italy  are  not  so  besotted 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  305 

With  intoxicating  iiquory  as  England,  althougli  in  energy  and 
intolligence  England  is  their  superior.  The  working  classes 
have  become  imbruted  with  beer,  which  is  one  of  the  vilest 
compounds  ever  invented.  It  is  far  worse  than  genuine 
brandy,  for  it  makes  a  fool  of  the  man  who  drinks  it. 

There  were  drank  last  year  in  Great  Britain,  22,962,912 
gallons  of  home-made  spirits  I 

In  England  -  -  -  9,053,676  imperial  galls. 
In  Scotland  -  -  -  5  935,063 
In  Ireland     ---6  973,333 

The  duty  upon  that  quantity  amounted  to  over  25,000,000 
of  dollars,  and  such  is  the  revenue  to  government,  that  it 
would  receive  a  heavy  shock  were  all  Britons  to-morrow  to 
become  tee-totalers.  This  does  not  include  rum,  brandy,  or 
beer.  The  whole  retail  cost  of  this  enormous  number  of  gal- 
lons was  over  $85,000,000  !  And  this  was  borne  principally 
by  people  too  poor  to  enjoy  the  common  comforts  of  life — a 
people,  five  sixths  of  whom  cannot  cast  a  vote  because  of  their 
poverty — a  people  who  a  few  years  since  died  by  thousands 
of  famine,  and  yet  that  very  year  consumed  grain  enough  for 
distilling  purposes  to  have  given  bread  to  all  the  starving 
wretches  that  died,  and  to  have  saved  the  nation  from  positive 
suffering  and  want. 

There  were  consumed  last  year  644,758  gallons  of  rum, 
swelling  the  total  cost  of  home-made  spirits  and  rum  to  the 
enormous  amount  of  one  hundred  millions  of  dollars  I 

Beside  this  there  are  two  other  important  items — brandy 
and  beer — the  last  being  a  common  and  favorite  beverage  of 
.,he  working  people. 

Of  brandy  there  wero  drank  last  year  2,187,501  gallons  in 
the  United  Kingdon,  at  a  cost  of  more  than  $15,000,000. 

Duty  was  paid  to  the  Government  during  the  last  year  on 
nearly  40,000,000  bushels  of  malt,  and  between  400  and 
500,000,000  gallons  of  beer  were  manufactured.     At  least 

20 


306  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON, 

$120,000,000  were  then  spent  by  the  inhabitants  of  Grea 

Britain  last  year  for  beer  I    - 
The  figures  stand  thus — 

Beer -  =  -  -  $120,000,000 

Brandy -       14,000,000 

Rum ----...       16,000.000 

Home-made  Spirits  -  ^      85,000,000 

Total ».--  — $235,000,000 

Two  hundred  and  thirty-five  millions  of  dollars  nett  I  And 
consumed  by  a  nation  of  poverty-stricken  men  and  vromen. 
It  is  in  the  power  of  the  working  men  of  Great  Britain  to 
compel  the  Government  to  grant  them  universal  sufTrage.  If 
they  would  stop  drinking  and  save  their  money  for  the  pur- 
chase of  freeholds,  in  a  short  time  they  could  outvote  the 
aristocracy,  or  they  could  by  such  a  course  bring  the  Govern- 
ment  upon  its  knees.  Nothing  will  make  a  European  Govern- 
ment tremble  quicker  than  a  diminution  in  its  revenues ;  and 
the  revenue  arising  from  beer,  brandy,  and  spirits  is  very 
great.' 

THE  PEOPLE. 

It  is  a  very  difficult  matter  to  write  just  criticisms  upon  the 
English  people — much  more  difficult  than  many  people  ima- 
gine. A  visitor  who  sees  none  but  the  nobility  (the  Webster? 
and  Bancrofts),  may  live  in  England  a  half-century,  and  yet 
know  very  little  of  the  real  condition  and  prospects  of  the 
people.  Or  he  may  grope  about  the  splendid  houses  of  the 
m.erchant  princes,  among  the  traders,  or  circulate  through  the 
])rincipal  literary  circles,  and  yet  know  nothing,  or  next  to 
nothing,  of  the  people  as  a  whole.  The  feeling  of  caste  i.* 
so  very  strong  throughout  England,  that  when  a  man  enter? 
the  country,  and  is  introduced  by  a  person  who  is  the  mem 
ber  of  a  certain  class,  he  will  never,  unless  by  accident,  go 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  307 

above  or  below  that  particular  class.  This  may  seem  strange, 
but  it  is  true,  with  a  very  few  exceptions  ;  and  those  excep- 
tions, if  carefully  studied,  will  prove  to  be  the  results  of  acci- 
dent. It  is  like  going  to  Oregon — to  enter  England — you 
have,  at  the  starting-point,  your  choice  of  routes  ;  but  once 
started  on  the  upper  route  and  yon  cannot  see  the  lower,  or 
if  you  choose  the  lower,  then  you  cannot  see  the  upper,  unless 
you  commence  anew.  There  are  no  intersecting  roads.  If 
you  chance  to  have  a  good  introduction  to  Lord  Palmerstoo, 
Russell,  or  Ashley,  or  any  of  their  associates,  you  will  fare 
sumptuously  every  day,  and  get  an  exalted  opinion  of  English 
liberality  and  elegance — but,  alas  I  jon  have  not  seen  the 
backgrounds  of  the  picture. 

It  is  only  by  comparing  ihe  notes  of  persons  who  have 
moved  in  the  different  classes — thus  embracing  all — that  a 
just  criticism  may  be  formed  of  the  English  people.  The 
people  are  divided  into  numerous  classes — properly  castes — 
the  members  that  exist  on  the  confines  of  any  one,  sometimes 
stepping  over  to  the  frontiers  of  the  other. 

First,  there  is  the  class  of  nobles,  which  has,  at  least,  a 
half-dozen  subdivisions  or  degrees  in  rank. 

Second,  we  ought  to  class  the  literati,  for  though  they  are 
often  found  among  all  classes,  and  move,  by  virtue  of  their 
genius  and  talents,  among  all,  yet  they  are  a  class — though 
not  exclusive— a  far  nobler  class,  too,  than  that  styled  noble. 

Third  in  rank,  is  the  class  of  merchants  and  manufactur- 
ers. Below  this,  the  divisions  are  so  multifarious,  that  it  is 
useless  1o  attempt  a  classification.  The  most  degraded  class 
is,  we  think,  that  of  the  agricultural  laborers,  although  we 
have  had  no  opportunity  to  see  the  miners.  This  horrible 
feeling  of  caste  is  as  plainly  visible  among  the  (so  styled) 
lower  orders,  as  among  the  higher,  for  it  is  extremely  natural 
everywhere  for  the  lower  to  imitate  the  weaknesses  of  the 
higher — the  poor  those  oi  the  rich.     A  place-mechanic  leels 


308  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

as  mucli  above  his  brother  journeyman,  as  the  lord  above  the 
merchant,  or  the  merchant  above  the  draper  who  retails  the 
goods  which  he  imported  ;  and  in  like  manner  is  this  odious 
feeling  traceable  everywhere  in  England. 

The  nobility  are  proud,  rich,  and  possessed  of  educated  re- 
finement. They  patronize  the  fine  arts,  and  encourage  litera- 
ture— they  are  somewhat  voluptuous,  yet  better  moralists 
and  Christians  than  the  aristocrats  of  the  Continent.  They 
love  plainness  and  solidity,  and  in  their  houses  and  carriages 
this  can  be  seen,  for  this  is  an  important  ingredient  in  an 
Englishman's  character.  They  think  all  foreigners  several 
steps  below  them  in  the  social  scale,  except  Americans,  and 
we  are  their  sons  or  they  would  excommunicate  us.  It  is 
considered  beneath  the  dignity  of  an  old  family  to  contract 
an  alliance  with  a  French,  Spanish,  or  even  German.  It  is 
deteriorating  the  stock — it  is  contaminating  the  blood.  This 
pride  in  the  age  of  families  we  cannot  appreciate,  and  it 
seems  almost  laughable  to  us  sometimes.  The  future  pros- 
pects of  the  nobility  are  not  flattering,  for  though  Ueform 
moves  at  a  slow  pace  in  England,  yet  it  never  retraces  a  step 
once  taken.  There  are  no  reactionary  movements  there  ; 
slowly  but  certainly  as  the  sun  moves  to  the  zenitli,  so  moves 
Reform  in  England  towards  its  noon.  The  lords  and  earls 
may  hinder,  but  cannot  prevent  the  grand  final  consumma- 
tion. Long,  very  long,  have  they  swayed  the  destinies  of  Bri- 
tain— too  long  for  the  good  of  her  suffering,  starving  people. 
The  condition  of  the  burgeoise,  or  great  middle  class,  is  envi- 
able, for  they  have  wealth,  morality,  and  refinement.  In  no 
country  can  a  class  be  found  superior  in  intelligence,  Christian- 
ity, and  wealth,  to  this  class.  Their  houses  are  filled  with  all 
that  can  add  comfort,  and  there  is  an  absence  of  that  vulgar- 
ity that  is  too  often  seen  in  America.  This  class  is  that  which 
makes  England  what  she  is  upon  the  ocean,  and  in  her  im- 
mense possessions.     They  furnish  {^wt  ereate)  her  capital,  and 


MEN    AXD    THINGS.  309 

fikilfully  use  it ;  they  build  her  churches  and  public  buildings, 
her  railroads  and  canals.  They  are  as  proud,  perhaps,  as  the 
nobility,  but  they  are  so  closely  connected  with  the  lower 
classes  that  they  are  brought  within  the  reach  of  their  pray- 
ers, and  often  sympathize  with  them.  We  are  inclined  to 
believe  that  a  majority  of  the  middle  class  are  in  favor  of 
radical  reforms,  that  will  tend  to  raise  the  lower  classes  from 
their  degraded  position  to  that  of  acting,  powerful  men.  Upon 
this  point  hangs  their  future  welfare,  for  if  they  side  with 
the  masses  in  a  call  for  reform,  then  reform  will  certainly 
come,  and  England's  leaders  will  be  chosen  by  acclamation 
from  among  the  burgeoise.  But  if  they  neglect  those  de- 
mands, and  side  with  the  oppressive  aristocracy,  they  may  for 
a  time  keep  off  the  day  when  the  producers  of  England's 
Vv^ealth  shall  stand  erect  in  their  manhood,  but  when  that 
day  does  come,  it  will  be  a  sad  day  to  them  I  For  the  en- 
raged millions  will  remember  their  course,  and  will  cause 
their  ruin.  It  is  the  height  of  conservatism  for  these  men  at 
once  to  show  their  colors  on  the  side  of  the  oppressed  masses. 
For  it  is  by,  and  out  of  them  that  they  live,  and  when  they 
rise — as  they  must  peacefully  or  in  mob  array — then  will  the 
merchants,  the  ministers,  the  lawyers,  and  manufacturers, 
rue  the  day  of  their  adhesion  to  the  Guizot  policy,  for  an  op- 
pressed people  in  time  madden  and  destroy  what  they  will. 

The  class  of  laboring  mechanics  and  agriculturists  are  in  a 
condition  too  sad  to  contemplate.  Wages  are  generally  ex- 
tremely low — an  agricultural  laborer  getting  in  the  summer 
months  at  the  rate  of  from  30  to  60  cents  a  day,  and  board- 
ing himself  at  that.  In  the  winter  he  is  glad  to  get  half  hii 
summer  pay.  Lord  Ashley,  the  gUb-tongued  philanthropist, 
often  hires  men  at  the  rate  of  25  cents  a  day,  and  those  men 
having  large  families  suffering  for  want  of  bread.  This  was 
true  at  a  time  when  he  made  such  :i  furor  in  the  House  about 
the  factories  of  Manchester.     We  had  some  opportunity  to 


SlO  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

see  for  ourself  the  state  of  agriculturists,  but  principally 
Sfained  our  knowledg-e  from  frank  and  enlightened  English-' 
men  of  the  higher  classes.  The  state  of  the  laboring  or  agri- 
cultural population  is  debased  and  sensual.  They  see  few 
luxuries,  and  as  for  education,  they  are  on  an  equality  with 
the  brutes. 

The  mechanics  or  operatives  suffer  as  much  perhaps  from 
want  of  food  as  the  tillers  of  the  soil,  but  they  are  more  in- 
telligent, and  can  oftener  read  and  write,  A  skilful  mechan- 
ic can.  earn  a  good  living  sometimes,  but  he  is  not  certain  of 
it.  But  however  well  he  may  do,  he  may  never  expect  to 
shake  hands  with  him  who  is  refined  and  educated.  There 
is  a  great  gulf  between  the  producer  and  the  consumer— be- 
tween the  man  who  sells  tallow-candles  and  the  man  who 
tries  the  tallow  I  This  is  strange  and  exquisitely  foolish,  yet 
it  is  a  stern  fact.  Labor  is  not  respected  in  England,  and  too 
often  the  laborer  shares  the  same  fate  that  a  man  of  color 
does  in  America. 

The  price  of  labor  is  low,  and  then  comes  the  arm.y  of 
taxes  that  eat  off  the  half  of  every  starving  man's  loaf! 

But  the  prospects  of  the  class  are  brightening  every  day. 
Privileged  abuses  are  being  swept  away,  and  their  day  is  has- 
tening on  rapidly.  They  must,  however,  learn  self-deniai 
yet,  before  they  gain  liberty — they  must  be  willing  to  die  for 
it  ere  they  will  prize  it  as  it  should  be  prized.  The  working 
classes,  by  abstaining  from  their  beer  for  six  months,  could 
bring  the  British  Government  upon  its  knees,  and  themselves 
into  the  full  stature  of  men.  But  they  are  too  social— or  love 
their  merry  carousals  too  well.  They  are  not  prepared  to  suf- 
fer for  liberty,  and  they  do  not  deserve  it.  An  Englishman 
hates  a  revolution — that  is,  one  involving  anarchy — as  he 
hates  the  French.  Yet  England  is  the  greatest  country  in 
the  world  for  peaceful  agitators.  An  American,  upon  attend- 
ing some  of  their  public  meetings,  would   think   of  the  old 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  311 

days  of  '76.  The  Government  is  denounced  in  the  most  vio- 
lent manner,  and  reform  is  advocated  with  the  freedom  of  a 
Patrick  Henry.  But  you  soon  discover  that  their  courage  is 
very  like  that  of  a  barkiiio:  cur  who  is  beyond  the  reach  of 
your  whip.  They  know  just  how  much  it  is  safe  to  say,  and 
you  never  catch  them  over  that  Mason  and  Dixon's  line. 

Yet  reform  will  come  in  England,  and  that,  too,  without 
fighting.  If  the  reformers  would  attempt  a  fight,  the  Gov- 
ernment would  he  delighted,  but  the  people  are  too  wise  for 
that.  They  know  that  they  could  make  no  headway  against 
a  disciplined  army.  They  will  wait  till  by  moral  force  they 
gain  a  majority  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  then  they 
can  disband  the  army,  and  demand  what  they  please. 

ENGLISH  HABITS. 

The  art  of  housekeeping  is  carried  to  perfection  in  England 
The  quietness-  and  smoothness  with  which  the  routine  of  do- 
mestic duties  glide  along,  astonishes  the  American  who  is  ac- 
customed to  noise  and  hurrj'-,  voracity  and  fretfulness,  as  the 
accompaniment  to  "  household  joys."  The  universal  haste  to 
get  rich  in  this  country,  is  an  effectual  bar  to  the  full  or  gen- 
erous development  of  family  pleasures  and  amusements.  Men 
struggle,  as  if  for  life,  when  with  economy  and  contentmeiit 
they  might  enjoy  life  far  better  than  princes  do.  Even  our 
richest  men  of  business,  though  not  urged  on  by  the  fear  of 
immediate  poverty,  are  striving  like  madmen  to  keep  up  a 
vodtion.  Fathers  toil  in  the  counting-room  from  morning  till 
night,  adding  furrows  to  their  brews,  that  their  wives  and 
daughters  may  ride  in  their  splendid  carriages  with  cosily 
shav/ls  upon  their  shoulders,  when  more  walking  by  day  an'^ 
less  flaunting  by  night,  would  be  their  health,  wealth,  and 
salvation.  There  is  more  steadiness  in  the  English  aim  to 
get  vioh — or  rather  there  is  less  aiming  to  become  rich,  and 


312  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

more  to  secure  a  comfortable  income.  A  good  business  is 
sufficient,  if  its  income  is  all  that  is  needed  to  support  a  man 
in  comiortable  style,  and  its  owner  never  anticipates  a  retire- 
ment from  business,  till  old  age  overtakes  him.  So  he  settles 
down  with  the  determination  to  enjoy  as  much,  spend  as 
much,  this  year,  as  any  year  in  the  future,  and  thus  the  real 
happiness  of  his  house  and  home  is  secure.  The  comparative 
absence  of  pretensions  to  wealth  in  England  attracted  our  at- 
tention particularly.  We  remember  once  of  meeting  at  an 
evening  party  a  very  modest  yet  amiable  man,  who  had  the 
quiet  manners  of  a  true  gentleman,  yet  whose  moderate  pre- 
tensions were  such  as  to  lead  one  used  to  Amicrican  society  to 
suppose  him  very  poor.  After  the  party  was  over,  a  friend 
who  accompanied  us  asked — 

"  Did  you  observe  that  modesty  farmer-like  man,  Mr. 
S ?" 

We  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  Weil,  he  is  the  richest  land-holder  in  the  County — he  can 
ride  a  dozen  miles  in  one  direction  on  his  own  grounds  I" 

This  is  not  a  single  instance  : — many  and  many  a  time  we 
have  had  occasion  to  ask  the  wealth  of  men  whose  bearing 
was  quiet  and  unostentatious,  and  have  been  surprised  to 
learn  their  great  Vv^ealth.  Upon  the  whole,  we  are  inclined 
to  think  that  the  "  almighty  dollar"  has  a  more  abject  wor- 
ship in  Am^erica  than  in  England,  or  at  least,  in  American 
nties,  than  in  those  of  Ih'itain.  The  absence,  or  partial  ab- 
sence of  this  feverish  desire  to  become  rich,  acts  like  a  charm 
upon  the  social  influences  that  surround,  or  should  surround, 
a  home.  A  gentlene^^s  settles  around  it  like  the  flowers  in  its 
garden,  full  of  heavenly  perfume. 

If  a  man  can  afford  to  keep  a  carriage,  he  does  so  without 
any  particular  ostentation  ;  if  he  cannot,  he  does  not  ;  and 
W'hat  is  more,  he  shows  no  senseless  sensitiveness  in  trying  to 
conceal  the  fact  that  he  cannot  afford  to  keep  one.     We  have 


MEN    AND    THINGS.  313 

heard  more  than  one  fine  man  declare  in  open  company  that 
he  could  not  afford  to  keep  a  carriage,  without  the  least 
shame  ;  and  we  could  not  help  contrasting  his  outspokenness 
with  many  others  in  like  circumstances  here,  who  M'ould 
make  all  manner  of  deceptive  manoeuvres  to  avoid  any  ques- 
tion bearing  on  so  delicate  a  subject. 

As  the  English  man  of  business  is  more  free  from  the  terri- 
ble desire  to  get  t.iddenl^  rich  than  men  of  business  here,  so 
having  more  time  to  spend  in  the  bosom  of  his  home,  to  cul- 
tivate and  refine  it,  in  exact  proportion  his  surpasses  ours  in 
all  that  is  gentle,  refined,  lovely  and  pleasant. 

We  spent  many  happy  days,  while  in  London,  at  the  sub- 
urban residence  of  a  dear  friend  who  is  a  member  of  that 
opulent  class  of  business  men,  known  as  merchant-manu- 
facturers— a  man  who  manufactures  largely,  and  exports 
what  he  manufactures.  As  his  home  is  a  sample  of  others 
in  his  sphere  of  life,  and  may  serve  as  a  sample  of  home  life 
in  London,  we  will  describe  it  without  exposing  those  home- 
scenes  which  are  all  the  sweeter  that  they  are  choice,  and 
must  remain  mysteries  to  all  those  who  do  not  seek  after 
them  in  a  true  spirit  of  home-devotion.  His  cottage  was 
built  of  stone — in  the  antique  French  style  of  architecture — 
all  about  it  lay  a  garden,  capacious,  and  full  of  exquisite  flow- 
ers, old  branching  trees,  water-courses,  green  grassy  lawns, 
and  fruits  of  all  species. 

The  breakfast  hour  was  nine,  winter  and  summer,  and 
more  than  once  in  June  we  have  awoke  from  sleep  and  looked 
out  upon  the  pleasant  sunshine  on  the  lawn,  saying  to  our- 
self,  "  We  have  four  or  five  hours  yet  to  sleep."  The  birds 
were  singing  so  loudly  many  times,  that  we  almost  laughed 
at  the  idea  oi  sleeping  !  At  nine  we  used  to  enter  the  break- 
last-room,  and  sit  down  to  tea,  chocolate,  and  dry-toast. 
Plates,  knives  and  forks  were  scarcely  ever  used — eggs  we 
ate,  but  were  never  tempted  with  meats  or  vegetables.     After 

2^ 


314  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

breakfast,  the  owner  of  the  mansion  rode  invariably  into 
town,  to  his  counting-room,  where  he  was  absorbed  till  tea, 
or  Slipper,  as  the  state  of  his  business  demanded.  In  the 
morning  hours  we  could  write,  walk,  ride,  make  excui'sions 
with  the  ladies — in  short,  amuse  ourseif  exactly  as  we  thought 
best.  At  12  M.  generally,  a  slight  luncheon  was  served. 
At  three,  fom%  or  five,  according  to  circumstances,  the  dinner 
was  eaten,  This  was  the  meal  of  the  day,  and  a  good  deal 
of  etiquette  was  thrown  about  it.  It  occupied  from  one  to 
two  hours,  and  sometimes  a  longer  period.  Soup  commenced 
the  meal,  and  a  luxurious  dessert  always  ended  it.  With- 
out the  least  confusion  or  noise  the  servants  removed  or 
brought  on  various  tried  or  untried  dishes,  and  any  want  or 
wish  of  the  guests  was  attended  to,  if  signified  by  a  m.ere 
nod.  It  seemed  to  us  strange  to  see  the  working  of  such  per- 
fect order.  At  the  table  every  one  ate  slowly,  masticating 
thoroughly  the  food,  talking  leisurely,  and  waiting  with  pa- 
tience the  ^»sappearance  of  one  course,  and.  the  ^j!;pearance 
of  another.  The  haste,  so  awful  to  behold  here,  where  we 
thrust  the  keen  knife-blade  down  our  throats,  was  never  seen 
by  us,  except  when  a  company  of  railway  passengers  were 
eating  a  dinner  that  must  be  swallowed  in  ten  minutes. 

At  seven,  we  generally  drank  tea,  which  was  accompanied 
with  toast,  and  the  lighter  species  of  cake.  This  was  to  us  a 
delightful  repast — especially  in  winter,  by  the  cheerful  fire. 
It  is  generally  devoted  to  pleasant  talk  and  social  glee.  One 
could  sit  at  table  or  not,  as  his  fancy  suggested.  Gathered 
all  about  the  pleasant  fire,  some  on  the  sofa,  and  others  in 
the  "  old  arm-chairs,"  or  at  the  table,  it  was  a  cheerful  sight 
to  look  upon  or  participate  in. 

Supper  generally  came  on  at  nine  or  ten,  or  sometimes 
much  later.  This  was  in  every  essential,  like  the  dinner, — 
hot  meats,  cold  meats,  &c.  &c.,  being  served  up  in  the  most 
palatable  manner      Then  the  evening  hours  were  devoted  *o 


MEN     AND    THINGS.  315 

home  pleasures.  Of  course,  when  out-door  pleasures  were 
sought,  the  supper  hour  was  postponed  until  the  return,  at 
midnight,  or  later.  Then  to  our  pleasant  room,  where  at- 
tentive servants  always  placed  plenty  of  water,  towels,  and 
every  convenience.  A  bell-rope  always  hung  over  our  pil- 
low, and  a  slight  jerk  in  case  of  illness,  would  summon  help 
at  once. 

OPPKESSION. 

There  are  many  noble  philanthropists  in  England,  but  if 
one  were  to  judge  from  the  tenor  of  Exeter  Hall  speechcF.  he 
would  be  led  to  suppose  that  oppression  was  a  crime  unknown 
in  England.  That  such  is  not  the  fact  the  reader  will  readily 
believe.  We  will  not  now  allude  to  the  gross  oppression  of 
that  system,  which,  while  it  taxes  all  Englishmen,  only  allows 
one  in  six  to  cast  a  vote,  thus  imposing  taxation  without 
representation — which  always  is  tyranny.  But  we  will  look 
for  a  moment  abroad,  and  view  the  workings  of  British  rule 
there.  The  small  but  powerful  kingdom  of  Great  Britain, 
has  vast  possessions  in  the  shape  of  colonies  and  dependencies. 
But  a  small  portion  of  them  are  in  the  situation  of  Canada, 
which  being  contiguous  to  a  land  of  political  freedom,  has  de- 
manded and  received  many  political  privileges  not  i  ccorded  to 
other  colonies.  There  are  countries  of  vast  extent  over  which 
the  officers  in  Downing  Street,  London,  exercise  a  most  despotic 
sway.  The  Russian  bear  is  not  more  self-willed  and  iron- 
hearted  than  these  rulers  over  millions  whom  they  never  saw, 
and  never  expect  to  see. 

British  India  contains  514,190  square  miles,  besides  which, 
there  are  1,128,000  under  the  lorotection  of  the  British  Crown. 
That  is,  the  native  chiefs,  and  their  people  over  this  vast  area 
of  territory,  are  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  are  completely  the 
Bubjects  of  the  British  Government.  A  commercial  company, 
called  the  East  India  Company,  holds  in  trust  for  the  crown, 


316  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

this  great  Indian  Empire,  and  has  done  so  for  many  years 
The  iniquities  which  have  been  perpetrated  upon  the  natives 
have  often  been  exposed,  but  the  Enghsh  people  have  never 
manifested  anything  like  national  shame  or  repentance.  The 
charter  we  believe  expires  the  present  year — and  was  granted 
ly  Q.ueen  Elizabeth.  It  remains  to  be  seen  whether  the 
British  Parliament  wiil  renew  a  charter  which  is  really  a 
lease  granted  to  Despotism. 

The  Indian  Government  in  England  consists  of  twenty-four 
directors,  appointed  by  the  East  India  Company,  which  is 
under  the  control  of  an  Indian  Board  in  London  appointed  by 
the  Crown.  In  India  there  is  a  Governor  General,  advised 
by  a  small  Council  which  is  also  nominated  by  authorities  in 
London.  This  is  the  ivhole  Government  of  India  !  There 
is  no  Legislature — the  people  are  entirely  unrepresented. 

British  India  is  divided  into  the  presidencies  of  Calcutta, 
Madras  and  Bombay,  the  population  of  which  combined 
amounts  to  100,000,000  1  These  millions  have  no  voice  in 
the  management  of  their  own  affairs.  Not  a  vote  can  they 
cast,  but  they  are  dumb,  driven  slaves,  to  all  intents  and 
purposes.  The  annual  tax  which  is  levied  upon  this  people, 
is  over  $100,000,000.  And  what  is  still  more  astonishing— 
every  farthing  of  this  immense  sum  goes  into  British  pockets, 
nd  nine  tenths  of  it  leaves  India  for  England.  The  oppiessed 
natives  pay  the  salaries  of  the  great  Engl'sh  lords  who  come 
o  rule  them  ;  they  pay  all  the  salaries  of  the  lazy  clerks  on 
Indian  msiUeYS  i'/t  Lo?idon  ;  aye  and  pay  for  the  support  of 
Ihat  British  Array  which  butchers  them  as  if  they  were 
beasts,  and  not  men  destined  to  immartality.  The  great 
India  dinners  which  are  given  at  the  aristocratic  London 
Tavern  at  a  great  expense,  are  paid  -for  by  these  poor  wretches 
in  India.  They  also  pay  the  interest  on  the  heavy  debt 
which  the  Company  has  mcurred  in  subjugating  them  to  a 
state  of  vassalage  ai-id  slavery,  and  what  is  still  more  damning, 


MEN    A.^TD    THINGS.  31*7 

they  actually  pay  ten  per  cent  interest  on  the  merely  nominal 
capital  of  the  Honorable  East  India  Company  ! 

One  hundred  millions  are  thus  annually  wrung  from  the 
natives  of  India  by  military  force,  ready  to  butcher  them  if 
they  utter  the  first  note  of  remonstrance.  The  land  is  taxed 
and  its  products,  all  imports  and  exports  — and  in  return  for 
this  the  natives  receive,  not  a  solitary  privilege,  not  the  shadow 
f  political  liberty  I 

The  enormous  sum  of  money  drained  from  India  yearly. 
Keeps  England  flooded  with  capital.  Although  the  country 
of  all  countries  for  bitter  poverty,  yet  at  the  same  time  it  is 
full  of  gold.  Capital  is  abundant — money  almost  a  drug. 
The  few  receive  it,  keep  it,  or  loan  it.  Millions  keep  flowing 
in  from  India,  and  nothing  goes  back.  There  is  no  return, 
for  the  money  does  not  come  for  goods  or  provisions,  but  is 
forced  from  the  people  without  any  equivalent  therefor  being 
given.  This  influx  of  capital  keeps  the  aristocratic  classes 
rolling  in  splendor,  and  also  renders  them,  in  a  certain  sense, 
independent  of  the  poverty-stricken  condition  of  the  English 
people.  A  panic  at  home  does  not  touch  them,  for  they  lean 
upon  India,  'and  they  can  laugh  when  national  calamity 
Cometh.  The  taxes  in  India  are  paid  principally  in  native 
products,  and  English  merchants  are  upon  the  spot  always 
ready  to  purchase  them  for  half  their  value,  and  sell  again  in 
the  markets  of  the  world.  Thus  the  natives  are  cheated, 
oven  in  the  payment  of  their  unjust  taxes.  Yet  very  little  is 
said  in  England  about  this  great  system  of  fraud  and  oppression 
save  by  a  few  men  like  George  Thomson  and  John  Bright. 
Exeter  Hall  resounds  with  eloquence  directed  against  negro 
slavery— -but  India  is  passed  over  in  silence. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

THE   CRYSTAL   PALACE. 

THE    OPENING. 

We  shall  only  attempt  a  very  brief  sketch  of  that  wondei 
of  the  present  century — the  World's  Exhibition  of  1851.  For 
were  we  to  do  it  justice,  we  should  occupy  a  volume  ; 
whereas  our  aim  has  been  a  different  one — to  give  the  reader 
a  lively  impression  of  many  of  the  distinguished  men,  and 
things,  and  places,  in  London. 

We  saw  the  first  sods  removed  in  Hyde  Park,  on  the  spot 
where  was  raised  the  wonderful,  the  magnificent  structure  of 
Mr.  Paxton — saw  it  gradually  rise  to  glorious  completeness- — 
saw  the  thousands  of  mechanics  who  built  it — heard  the 
music  of  their  hammers — and,  when  the  Crystal- Palace  was 
finished,  entered  and  saw  the  world  arranging  its  wares  in  it 
for  exhibition.  This  sight  was  a  wonderful  one,  as  we  en 
tered  the  Palace  two  or  three  days  before  it  was  open  to  the 
world,  and  the  exhibitors  of  Asia,  Europe  and  America  were 
busy  in  spreading  out  their  wonders  to  the  best  possible  ad- 
vantage. 

The  building  was  opened  on  the  first  day  of  May.  The 
morning  was  a  chilly  one,  yet  very  early  all  the  avenues  lead- 
ing to  Hyde  Park  were  crowded  almost  to  sufibcation,  with 
masses  of  enthusiastic  people.  Business  was  generally  sus- 
pended throughout  London,  and  all  those  parts  not  contiguous 
to  Hydo  Park  wore  an  air  of  loneliness  and  desertion.     The 


THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE.  319 

ghops  all  shut,  few  people  to  be  seen,  the  streets  silent — 
strange  sight  for  London  I  But  the  Park  itself  was  one  huge 
sea  of  human  faces — everywhere  near  it,  in  all  directions, 
there  were  great  crowds  of  people,  all  eager  and  anxious  to 
get  a  sight  of  the  Crystal  Palace  and  the  Q,ueen,  who  was 
Boon  to  enter  it. 

The  holders  of  season  tickets  alone  were  admitted  that  day, 
and  at  an  early  hour  they  flocked  to  the  doors  of  the  building* 
in  such  force,  that  a  Company  of  Sappers  and  Miners  were 
ailed  in  to  enforce  order.  By  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  twen- 
y-five  thousand  persons  had  arrived  and  were  seated  under 
the  crystal  roof  of  the  Palace  of  Exhibition  ;  then  the  doors 
were  closed.  The  view  of  these  thousands  in  that  wondrous 
interior  was  splendid  beyond  description.  The  elite  of  the 
world  was  there — the  flower  of  England  !  Men  of  rank,  and 
intellect,  and  wealth  ; — renowned  on  the  field  and  in  the 
workshop.  There  was  the  Duke  of  Wellington— it  was  his 
eighty-second  birth-day — looking  hale  and  vigorous  yet.  There 
was  the  venerable  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  ;  Paxton,  the 
designer  of  the  beautiful  structure,  in  the  prime  of  manhood  ; 
there  were  beautiful  women  too,  from  England,  and  France, 
and  Russia,  and  America  ! 

The  view  outside  of  the  building  was  one  of  grandeur  too. 
Hundreds  of  thousands  of  people  gathered  up  closely  around 
the  walls  of  glass  ;  and  the  Park  and  the  streets  reaching  out 
n  every  direction,  were  densely  packed  with  the  multitude. 

A  little  before  twelve  o'clock  there  was  a  smart  shower  of 
rain,  which  however  had  no  effect  upon  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
outside  millions.  In  a  few  minutes  the  glorious  sun  burst 
forth,  the  clouds  vanished,  and  the  Crystal  Palace  glittered 
like  a  "  mountain  of  light."  Then  from  across  the  river  Ser- 
pentine was  heard  the  flourish  of  trumpets — the  dueen  was 
coming!  Then  burst  forth  the  cheers,  and  shouts,  and  thun- 
derous hurrahs  of  that  mighty  assemblage. 


320  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

The  carriage  drew  up  before  the  northern  transept,  and 
Her  Majesty  and  Prince  Albert  entered.  The  thousands  con- 
gregated there  arose  to  greet  her  becomingly,  and  she  took  her 
seat  upon  the  throne,  under  a  beautiful  silken  canopy. 

The  K-oyal  Commissioners  read  their  Report  ; — the  Q,ueen 
made  a  gracious  reply  ; — then  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury 
offered  up  a  fervent  and  beautiful  prayer.  The  choir  joined 
in  singing  a  grand  Hallelujah  Chorus  ;  and  some. idea  of  the 
effect  of  the  performance  may  be  gained  from  the  fact  that  it 
was  composed  of  the  entire  vocal  strength  of  the  Chape 
Royal,  St,  Paul's  Cathedral,  Westminster  Abbey,  and  St 
George's  Chapel  of  Windsor  !  A  massive  organ  accompanied 
them,  and  the  vast  building  vibrated  with  the  majestic  har- 
monies which  filled  it. 

Thus  closed  the  impressive  opening  exercises,  and  the 
crowd  of  people  followed  the  dueen  as  she  made  a  tour  of 
the  Exhibition. 

THE  EXHIBITION. 

The  finest  interior  view  of  the  Crystal  Palace  was  from  the 
centre,  as  we  entered  from  the  Southern  Central  transept. 
The  vast  proportions  of  the  building  the  reader  knows — how 
that  it  covered  eighteen  acres  of  Hyde  Park — but  he  cannot 
imagine  the  astonishing  grandeur  of  that  view  from  the  centre 
--—looking  north  and  south,  and  still  farther  east  and  west,  A 
lusty  oak-tree  rejoicing  in  its  foliage  stood  at  our  left  ;  the 
crystal  fountain  was  playing  in  the  centre,  throwing  its  jets 
of  pure  water  aloft  for  the  sunshine  to  make  beautiful ;  a  blaze 
of  light  and  beauty  assailed  our  eyes  from  every  quarter  ;  and 
w^e  could  see  at  the  extreme  eastern  department  the  American 
eagle,  and  the  stars  and  stripes  floating  with  majestic  grace- 
fulness I 

A  grand  aisle  or  transept  ran  from  east  to  west  through  the 
entire  building,   in  the  centre,  and  also  north  and  south  at 


THE    CRYSTAL    PALACE.  321 

right  angles.  In  this  grand  aisle  the  chef-cVmuvres  were 
placed,  both  of  industry  and  art.  The  British  department 
consisted  of  the  entire  western  half  of  the  building,  with  the 
exception  of  a  place  for  the  machinery  of  all  nations.  In  the 
grand  aisle  of  this  department  there  were  some  fine  specimens 
of  art — models  of  bridges — telescopes — lighthouses,  and  docks. 
On  the  left  hand,  going  west,  first  there  was  a  fine  collection 
of  cottons,  wools,  seeds,  native  arms,  and  artillery  from  the 
British  East  Indies.  Next  the  exhibition  of  Australia  and  the 
Canadas — next  to  that  an  exhibition  of  English  hardware 
agricultural  implements,  and  woven  fabrics.  On  the  right 
hand,  going  west,  we  saw  many  specimens  of  British  Fine 
Arts,  of  minerals,  and  a  splendid  collection  of  carriages. 

In  the  department  for  machinery  there  were  cotton-mills  in 
full  operation  ;  printing  presses  striking  ofT  impressions  of 
newspapers  ;  and  all  kinds  of  curious  machines  requiring 
steam  motive  power. 

We  were  once  more  by  the  central  Fountain,  and  walked 
down  the  grand  transept,  east,  towards  the  American  depart- 
ment. The  Koh-i-noor  diamond  first  arrested  our  attention — 
then  a  piece  of  sculpture  from  Germany,  entitled  "The  Ma- 
zeppa  Group  ;" — then  a  stained  window  from  Milan — and 
still  farther  on  "  The  Amazon  and  Tiger,"  a  piece  of  sculp- 
ture. 

On  the  right  hand  side,  going  east,  was  the  exhibition  of 
Tunis  and  China,  and  the  Brazils,  consisting  principally  of 
costumes,  tapestry,  screens  and  carpets. 

Switzerland  followed  with  embroidery,  silks,  musical  in- 
struments, watches,  linens,  and  straw  plaitings. 

Then  came  France  with  her  mirrors,  sofas,  libraries,  bronzes, 
tapestry,  gold  and  silversmith's  work,  laces,  blondes,  artificial 
flowers  and  statuary. 

Belgium  was  next  in  order  with  woolen  manufactures,  flan- 
nels, damasks,  zincs,  iron  and  flax 
N*  21 


322  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

Austria  was  there  with  toys,  boots  and  shoes,  and  a  fine 
collection  of  statuary  ;  Germauy  witli  lype-machine,  electric 
telegraph,  embroideries,  carpet-work,  a,nd  shawls  ;  the  Zoll- 
verein  with  minerals  ; — Russia  principally  with  raw  produce. 

On  the  left,  going  east,  w'e  first  came  to  the  Turkish  and 
Arabian  collection  of  brocades,  silks,  muslins  and  furs.  Spain 
and  Portugal  followed  with  leather,  linens  and  produce.  On 
the  extreme  left,  France  exhibited  locomotives  and  various 
machines.  In  the  Italian  department  there  were  mosaic  ta- 
bles, bronze  castings,  raw  silks  and  statuary, 

Holland  furnished  wools  :  Russia,  on  this  side  of  the  grand 
aisle,  porcelain  vases,  ornamental  cabinet-work,  Florentine 
mosaics,  and  Caucasian  arms. 

The  extreme  eastern  portion  of  the  Palace  Avas  given  up  to 
the  United  States,  and  over  it  the  eagle  kept  watch  with 
careful  eye.  The  first — aye,  and  the  last — object  we  gazed 
at,  was  "  The  Greek  Slave,"  the  master-piece  of  Hiram  Pow- 
ers. It  stood  alone  in  the  Crystal  Palace — un approached  by 
any  other  piece  of  statuary  there.  The  reaping-machine  at 
first  did  not  attract  much  attention,  but  after  its  merits  were 
snown,  a  crowd  always  surrounded  it.  There  was  always, 
loo,  a  crowd  of  admirers  around  the  piece  of  sculpture,  by 
Powers.  The  collection  of  agricultural  implements  was  good  •, 
there  were  excellent  specimens  of  our  raw  produce  ;  fine  da- 
uerreotypes  ;  an  ingenious  bridge  by  Remington  ;  and  other 
hings  of  real  value  ;  and  yet  v/e  speak  the  opinion  of  every 
American  who  visited  the  Crystal  Palace,  when  we  say  that 
the  United  States  were  not  well  and  thoroughly  represented 
there.  No  fair  idea  could  be  gained  of  our  resources,  of  our 
manufactures  and  inventions,  by  the  collection  exhibited  in 
the  Palace.  There  Vv^ere  many  circumstances,  which  contrib- 
uted to  render  our  collection  meagre.  The  distance  was 
great  ;  the  movement  was  not  a  popular  one  in  all  the  States. 
and  the  Government  did  not  move  with  sufficient   alacrity 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE.  323 

about  the  matter.     But  it  has  now  passed  away,  and  it  \s  use 
less  to  regret  that  over  which  we  have  no  control. 

We  have  given  the  merest  bird's-eye  view  of  the  contents 
of  the  Crystal  Palace — only  mentioning  the  prominent  thinga 
which  were  exhibited  in  each  department.  We  now  hasten 
to  the  termination  of  the  great  exhibition. 

THE  CLOSE. 

On  a  somewhat  cheerless  day  of  October,  with  few  cere 
monies  and  little  circumstance,  the  Great  Exhibition  was 
closed.  The  trees  in  Hyde  Park  had  begun  to  shed  their 
leaves,  and  there  were  approaching  signs  in  every  direction, 
of  the  coming  gloom  of  winter.  The  interior  of  the  great 
Palace  looked  sad  ;  the  very  branches  of  the  old  trees  there, 
which,  during  the  summer,  had  been  blessed  with  such  royal 
society,  looked  forlorn.  The  Royal  Commissioners  were  there, 
surrounded  by  about  ten  thousand  people.  Prince  Albert  read 
a  report ;  the  Earl  of  Granville  ditto  ;  the  white-haired  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury  murmured  a  prayer  in  a  faint  voice  ; 
the  great  organs  thundered  forth  one  final  Hallelujah  ;  and 
the  wondrous  Exhibition,  which  had  attracted  the  world  to- 
gether, which  for  many  months  had  been  the  theme  of  con- 
verse in  all  cities  and  countries,  from  Tahiti  to  Hindostan, 
was  brought  to  an  end. 

There  was  no  pageantry,  no  pomp— and  no  one  of  all  the 
thousands  there  seemed  to  desire  it.  Upon  every  countenance 
there  was  a  shade  of  solemn  sadness,  as  if  the  moral  of  that 
day's  scene  had  found  its  way  to  the  heart  ;  that  all  in  this 
world  of  ours,  however  gorgeous,  however  costly  and  beauti- 
ful, must  come  to  an  end.  Yes,  the  scene  was  a  striking  one, 
but  not  more  so  than  the  moral  which  every  one  could  not 
fail  to  draw  from  it.  The  world  had  tried  its  utmost,  and 
built  a  palace  of  wondrous  beauty,  and  filled  it  with  its  grsind- 


324  WHAT    I    SAW    IN    LONDON. 

est,  its  proudest  achievements.  The  summer  passed  away  in 
gloryings,  and  rejoicings,  in  splendid  revelry — and  yet  here 
was  the  end.  And  v^hile  standing  there,  to  how  many  hearts 
came  the  recollection  of  those  sublime  lines  of  Shakspeare, 
which  we  have  quoted  in  another  place,  but  which  will  bear 
repeating  here  : 

"  The  cloud-capped  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherits,  shall  dissolve, 
And,  like  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision, 
Leave  not  a  wreck  behind." 

And  now  that  the  Exhibition  is  closed,  we  may  remark 
that  during  the  summer  of  1851,  from  the  American  depart- 
ment, Europe  (and  especially  England),  cannot  have  failed  to 
learn  that — it  is  not  wise  to  laugh  too  soon.  America,  in 
May,  was  the  laughing-stock  of  Europe  ;  the  journals  of  Paris 
and  London  went  into  convulsions  of  merriment  at  our  ex- 
pense ;  Punch  jeered,  and  the  Times  thundered  forth  its  sar- 
casm ;  and  the  people  laughed.  The  same  America  in  Sep- 
tember was  the  envy  of  Europe.  Then  even  the  Times 
gave  us  the  first  position,  in  the  Crystal  Palace,  and  out  of  it ; 
Mr.  Punch's  wit  was  suddenly  in  our  favor  ;  and  this  time, 
America  laughed.  We  had  triumphed  on  the  water  and  on 
the  land.  Our  yacht  shot  past  all  her  competitors^  and  our 
reaping-machine  became  the  wonder  of  England. 

Yet  America  could  not  exhibit  there  those  characteristica 
which  really  make  her  s.iperior  to  the  rest  of  the  world.  Our 
universal  suffrage,  education,  absence  of  poverty,  universal 
industry  and  morality— we  could  not  exhibit  these  in  the 
Crystal  Palace.     But  they  are  "  fixed  facts"  in  America,  and 

nowhere  ekfe.     Our  village  churches,  supported  by  no  cruel 

ecclesiastical  lav/s,  our  millions  of  school-houses,  our  cottage- 
aoTnes.   were  not   at     ne   Exhibition.      And   we   are  justlr 


THE  CRYSTAL  PALACE.  325 

prouder  of  them  than  of  aught  at  the  Crystal  Palace.  Theso 
are  the  things  which  really  distinguish  us  from  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  we  should  not  be  afraid  to  avow  to  the  world  that 
we  would  ten  thousand  times  rather  (if  we  must  make  a 
choice)  stand  first  in  education,  happiness,  and  morality,  thaii 
in  raanufactures  or  the  fine  arts. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

FAREWELL. 

The  rain  fell  in  torrsnts  as  we  stood  one  morning  in  the 
Euston  Square  K-ailway  Station,  with  a  hand  of  our  Ensrlish 
friends  around  us — to  speak  the  word,  farewell  I  There  were 
a  few  last  words  to  say — and  then  the  hissing  of  the  engine 
warned  us  to  take  our  seat  in  the  train ;  we  hade  our  friends 
a  long  adieu ;  and  were  soon  panting  onwards  towards 
Liverpool 

Early  the  next  morning  our  baggage  was  removed  to  the 
vessel  which  was  to  bear  us  hom.eward,  across  the  great  deep 
once  more,  and  in  a  few  hours  we  set  out  upon  our  long  journey. 

'No  true-hearted  American  ever  yet  set  sail  from  a  foreign 
shore  yb/-  the  home-land  without  a  feeling  of  enthusiastic  joy. 
And  yet  there  was  somewhat  of  sorrow  as  well  as  gladness 
n  our  heart.  When  we  gazed  at  the  stars  and  stripes  at  the 
nast-head,  pointing  homeward,  a  thrill  of  joy  shot  through 
our  heart;  but  when  we  turned  to  the  English  shores,  dying 
in  the  distance,  and  which  we  had  left  forever,  we  grew  sad, 
Engla,nd's  soft  landscape,  her  grass-covered  hills,  and  oaken 
forests  ;  her  blue  skies,  and  merry  singing-birds,  were  gone 
from  us.  And  then  we  thought  of  her  romantic  ruins— of  the 
haunts  of  her  poets— and  the  graves  of  her  statesmen.  We 
remembered  how  years  ago,  in  America,  we  had  been  amazed 
by  the  giant  intellect  of  Shakspeare — how  Milton  had  awed 
us,   and  Scott  delighted ; — bow  Chatterton's  sad  story  had 


FAREWELL.  32^ 

enlisted  our  sympathies — how  De  Foe  in  still  younger  da}s, 
had  been  the  object  of  childish  wonder  and  worship,  as  the 
author  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe."  Yet  since  then  we  had 
walked  in  the  very  streets  where  Shakspeare  walked  ;  seen 
Milton's  birth-place  and  grave  ;  rested  where  John  Bunyaii 
sleeps;  visited  the  haunts  of  poor  young"  Chatterton,  and  seen 
the  room  in  w^hich  Daniel  De  Foe  wrote  "  Robinson  Crusoe  V 
And  now  we  are  leaving  all — perhaps  forever. 

Then  there  were  beautiful  English  homes  that  had  cherished 
IS  as  a  mother  cherishes  a  child.  When  fever-stricken, 
entle  hands  had  ministered  to  our  wants  with  the  watchful- 
ness of  true  affection.  And  now  as  we  gazed  from  the  vessel's 
deck,  out  upon  the  low,  distant  English  shore,  is  it  strange 
that  we  were  sad  ? 

The  sun  was  almost  down,  but  before  sinking  behind  the 
great  Atlantic  waves,  his  golden  light  fell  sadly  though 
beautifully  upon  the  shore,  and  we  bade  England — as  we  now 
bid  the  reader — Farewell  ! 


THE  END, 


University  of 
Connecticut 

Libraries 


